


Frayed Connection

by punkerbones



Series: Frayed Connection [1]
Category: Transformers: More than Meets the Eye, transformers: idw
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Development, M/M, POV Canon Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-21 23:26:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 76,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3707363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkerbones/pseuds/punkerbones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finding an abandoned, wounded Roller on pure chance and opting to lend his help, Roller's fate and the fate of his unexpected helper are twisted together. As the paths they travel grow darker, they find that the same paths are guiding them closer together. But these paths are long, twisted, and filled with threats, and there is no promise of both reaching the end alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Found

**Author's Note:**

> All art, snippets, information, unpublished stuff, and possible spoilers of "Frayed Connection" can be found here: [Frayed Connection](http://punkerbones.tumblr.com/tagged/frayed+connection)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seemingly abandoned by his compatriots, Roller finds himself injured and in need of help he'd just as soon not have. Fortunately, there is someone nearby willing to lend a hand.

...pain...blurred...fire…move.

...move.

He had to move.

But there was no desire to.

As his optics slowly flickered online, Roller stared blankly ahead, his mind swimming and large frame shaking in a combination of power loss and pain. The left side of his face throbbed in relentless, smoldering pain, the vision in his left optic blurred and struggling to focus on anything. He knew if he slipped into stasis lock, it’d be the last thing he did. There’d be no waking up from it.

Then again...maybe that was for the best.

Because above all the pain he felt, the agony that had him paralyzed, Roller knew he had been left. Abandoned. Dropped like the dead, well, almost dead, weight that he now was.

Dentae gritting, Roller tried to will himself to stand, but nothing responded. There was a low hum of effort and a few stray sparks as his joints tried to obey, but that was it. Nothing more. No more strength to move, even if he had been born strong.

Yeah...maybe it was for the best, then. Sleep and not wake-

“Hey.”

The sound of a voice snapped Roller’s gaze up, and though his left optic still struggled to make out any details of the blurry figure that was slowly advancing, his right optic focused immediately as the figure came into view.

Tall, lanky, quad-goggles, weird set of what looked like antennae on the side of his helm, and a chrome and orange color scheme. Yellow optics glanced over Roller quickly, and the ‘bot tilted his head to the side as he shuffled a bit closer.

“Hey, are you...are you still alive?”

Optics narrowing, or rather, his right optic narrowing, Roller eyed the smaller ‘bot, but remained silent. Reaching out carefully, the ‘bot started to set his hand on Roller’s leg, but stopped when Roller finally spoke.

“I wouldn’t do that...if you want to keep...that hand.”

Withdrawing his hand slowly, optics still looking over Roller quickly, the ‘bot glanced around, then back at Roller. He still seemed hesitant, but to his credit, he didn’t leave. Again, Roller tried to move, and this time there was a little less pain, but still not enough of a response to actually get him to his feet.

“Do you...do you need help?”

Glowering at the smaller ‘bot, Roller snarled and redoubled his efforts to stand, but only managed a weak stumble forward. The chrome ‘bot darted back, optics going wide when Roller managed to move, but again...he didn’t run off. Wincing against the painful stiffness in each joint and the aching resistance that his servos were putting forward, Roller looked up at the smaller ‘bot, then sneered faintly. Though he immediately regretted the action when jolts of pain shot up through the left side of his face as his features tried to rebuke the expression.

“I’d crush you if I tried to lean against you,” Roller scoffed, forcing himself to at least bring one leg up so that he could rest his arm on his knee.

“Yeah, I...guess so,” the smaller ‘bot replied with a frown. His gaze flicked back to Roller, and he dared a small smile. “If you can walk, though, I’ve got a spot that’s fairly safe. And it’s at least out of the elements.”

The offer was unexpected and enough to make Roller pause. There was a very long stretch of silence as Roller studied the smaller ‘bot, trying to find any trace of a lie in his expression. Yellow optics locked with his, the smaller ‘bot never said a word, and only shifted his weight as he awaited an answer. Taking a mental inventory of his energy reserves and injuries, Roller tried to gauge just how much fight he had left in him, should things go south.

“You got a name?” Roller finally asked.

“Nitrogear.”

“Nitrogear?” Roller repeated, his expression laced with condescension.

The smaller ‘bot just nodded, optics flicking over Roller’s frame.

“What were you doing out-”

A rattle of gunfire cut Roller off, and his gaze snapped up as Nitrogear turned around quickly, apprehension spreading across his features. Scanning the debris ridden horizon, seeing nothing for the moment, Nitrogear turned back to Roller, freezing when he saw that Roller had gotten to his feet. Towering over Nitrogear, Roller scowled down at the smaller ‘bot, resisting the urge to smirk when Nitrogear cringed back slightly.

“Bring buddies with you?” Roller asked steely.

“No,” Nitrogear replied quickly, glancing over his shoulder. “Don’t have any ‘buddies’ to speak of. That’s probably a rather...rough misunderstanding that I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t have a problem dragging us in to.”

Though his initial response was to say “they” could go ahead and try, Roller knew that given his current injuries, he wouldn’t last too long in a firefight. Not to mention Nitrogear looked like he couldn’t fight his way off a padded recharge slab…

“Fine. Lead the way,” Roller stated firmly, wincing again at the ache on the left side of his face. He jabbed a digit at Nitrogear, eliciting a small start from the ‘bot. “Try and backstab me, though, and it’ll be the last thing in this life you do.”

“Just how strong do you think I am?” Nitrogear laughed nervously. He didn’t wait for an answer, though, and pivoted quickly, making his way down a trash-ridden alley.

With a short grunt of effort, Roller followed Nitrogear, quickly realizing that the ‘bot was more than capable of living up to his name. Whatever strength Nitrogear may have been lacking, he made up for it in speed and agility, and he lithely picked his way down the alleyway. Though he was able to kick aside any debris that got in his way, it slowed Roller down considerably, and when Nitrogear turned a corner sharply, Roller froze, joints protesting sharply at the sudden jolt. It would have been all too easy to ambush him if he turned that corner, and then-

Nitrogear poked his head out from the intersecting alleyway, tilting it to the side.

“Come on!” he urged, motioning for Roller to follow. “There are far worse things that can happen the longer we stay out here.”

Growling in frustration and against the pain, Roller continued forward, bracing himself for the possibility of an attack. But there was nothing. Nothing save for Nitrogear, who promptly resumed darting down the alleyway once Roller had followed. Without even breaking his stride, Nitrogear leapt up on what appeared to be a discarded metal crate that took up three-quarters of the alley space, scrabbling over it quickly. He stopped and turned to Roller.

“Just...take the jump easy and-”

Grabbing the edge of the crate, Roller shoved it up against the wall with as much force as he could muster, side-stepping it before letting it crash back down to the ground. Nitrogear looked over Roller quickly, who shrugged, suppressing a wince.

“Just how agile do you think I am?”

One corner of his mouth quirked up into a grin and Nitrogear chuckled shortly before continuing down the alley. Feeling a new wave of fatigue start to creep up on him, Roller glanced up at the quickly darkening skies.

“How much farther?” he called out.

“Not too much,” Nitrogear replied over his shoulder. “You going to make it?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Roller grumbled, gritting his dentae against the stabs of pain in his pedes as they hammered the ground.

When Nitrogear turned another sharp corner, Roller growled and redoubled his efforts, this time determined to keep up with the faster ‘bot. Even though he had to grip the corner of the alley as he turned, Roller kept his pace...and almost ran right over Nitrogear.

With a yelp, Nitrogear back pedaled quickly, stumbling off balance momentarily before regaining his composure. The look of terror that flashed across his expression caught Roller off-guard, but the smaller ‘bot quickly shook his head and stepped up to a sliding door, tapping an unlock code onto a worn, digital number pad. With a spray of sparks, the door slid open and Nitrogear beckoned Roller into the dark building.

“Come on.”

After a moment of hesitation, Roller stepped into the building, looking around slowly as a set of dim lights clacked on. The entire place looked like a repurposed storage unit, with a small table off in one corner, while what appeared to be a worn out recharge slab in the adjacent corner. Dust filtered down from the dim lights, and the door made a horrendous shrieking noise as it slid shut. Turning to face Roller, Nitrogear smiled weakly and shrugged.

“It’s not much, but hey, it’s better than being out there. At least...I think so, anyways.”

Motioning to the recharge slab, Nitrogear made another, half-hearted smile.

“It may not be top of the line or anything, but it works. Might take the sting off some of those injuries.”

Studying Nitrogear and gauging just how bad his injuries and energy levels were, Roller grimaced inwardly at the thought of being anywhere near an unconscious state at this point. He’d just gotten back up and standing and now this little runt was trying to convince him to go offline?

“You don’t have to,” Nitrogear added, shrugging quickly. “Just...if you want to. Or needed to.”

Nodding, Roller stood still, keeping an optic on Nitrogear. Returning the gaze, after a few minutes, Nitrogear shrugged again, making a nervous laugh before turning his attention to a small monitor set that was set up in the middle of the room. There was a makeshift chair out of what appeared to be metal crates, and Nitrogear quickly hopped up onto the chair, flicking on the monitor as he did so.

“Probably don’t have too much longer with the lights,” Nitrogear said, though his optics were on the monitor. “I can only siphon off so much of the power before somebody notices.”

Bristling at the mention, Roller opted to stay quiet. There was no point in arguing morality with Nitrogear, and besides, Roller wasn’t about to be ungrateful for the current hospitality. Walking over to where Nitrogear was seated, Roller turned his gaze to the monitor. The reception was only fair quality, and the audio occasionally cut out, but Roller recognized it as a late evening show that ran weekly.

“You like this show?”

Nitrogear looked up at Roller, seeming surprised to hear him speak, then nodded, his gaze returning back to the screen.

“Yeah. It’s kind of...predictable sometimes, but it’s still fun to watch.”

“Yeah, not too bad,” Roller commented.

Again, silence filled the space between them as the two stared blankly at the monitor, the only noise the sounds of the city around them and from the monitor itself. After a few moments, Roller realized that Nitrogear was trying to inconspicuously study him...and failing miserably.

“You need something?” Roller asked, looking down at Nitrogear.

Alarm shot across Nitrogear’s expression and he quickly shook his head, looking away.

“No, no…” Nitrogear’s expression contorted into a mix of apprehension and uncertainty. “Just…”

“Just…?”

“You’re really, really tall, you know?”

The statement caught Roller off guard and he looked down at Nitrogear, who, when given the response of silence tried to shrink down into the makeshift chair. Noticing the action, Roller shook his head dismissively.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed. Hit your head against the doorway enough times and you remember,” Roller replied with a half-grin. Quickly regretting the action when bolts of pain shot up through his face, Roller muttered a curse and stepped back, covering the damaged side of his face with a hand.

“You...you okay?” Nitrogear asked, standing up on the chair and looking over Roller quickly in alarm.

“Still hurts.”

“Want me to take a closer look? I don’t have much in the way of repairing the damage, but I may be able to do at least something.”

Staring at Nitrogear through his digits and with his undamaged optic, Roller frowned in confusion. He let his hand fall from his face before speaking.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Do what?”

“Helping me,” Roller replied. “Unless you were hoping I was looking for a bodyguard stint or you’re really that lonely, I can’t think of a single reason why you’d go to this trouble to help me. Not to mention risk the fact that I may go ballistic and actually attack you.”

“You’re not actually going to, are you?” Nitrogear asked, his voice trembling and optics going as wide as they could as he quickly shrank from view behind the chair. “...please don’t attack me. I’ll leave if you want the place, just please-”

“No, no,” Roller interjected, holding up his hands as he shook his head. “I’m not going to attack you. I’m just saying...I mean, that didn’t cross your mind as a possible risk?”

Though he was still eyeing Roller fearfully from his improvised shield of the chair, Nitrogear made a low, dismissive grunt and shrugged quickly. Looking back at him, trying to appear as unimposing as possible, Roller studied Nitrogear’s...well, optics, really. But there was a definite, stark look of terror in Nitrogear’s optics...and it sent an uneasy feeling through Roller. He couldn’t really put his digit on it, but it wasn’t a feeling Roller liked.

“I...guess it did,” Nitrogear finally answered, looking over Roller quickly. “But you needed help. I couldn’t just...leave you out there to die.”

Staring at Nitrogear, mulling over the response, Roller frowned, winced, and then shook his head before chuckling shortly.

“You’re one of those hopeless types that helps just because you can, huh?”

Nitrogear nodded.

“Bet you’ve gotten the scrap beaten out of you for it, huh?”

Again, a nod.

“Pretty bad?”

There was a long pause...and then another nod.

Sighing, Roller nodded his head in agreement, then motioned to the recharge bed. Nitrogear cautiously looked up over the chair at him, tilting his head to the side.

“Alright, in that case, if you don’t mind to take a look and at least see if my optic’s damaged to the point of no return, I’d appreciate it.”

Slowly, Nitrogear climbed off the chair, watching as Roller sat down on the recharge bed with a long, heavy sigh. Looking over the larger ‘bot, Nitrogear frowned as he went for a small repair kit. Roller was absolutely massive compared to him, and probably could have ripped his head off with one hand. But the guy seemed more interested in just chatting at this point than actually intimidating Nitrogear. A stark contrast to how he had been a few minutes ago.

Mentally kicking himself as he walked back to Roller, Nitrogear made a short scoff. With the damage that Roller appeared to have sustained, not to mention the fact that he had been muttering to himself about being ‘abandoned’ when Nitrogear had found him, it was no wonder he’d been cantankerous initially.

“Not a whole lot of stuff, like I said,” Nitrogear stated, opening the repair kit. “May be able to take the sting off some of the damage, though.”

“If you can’t, don’t worry about it,” Roller stated quietly. “I can just...sleep it off or something.”

“Hrmn…,” Nitrogear hummed with a frown. He had a pair of pointed pliers in one hand, and he held his other hand out. “Lean forward, please.”

Obliging, Roller looked over Nitrogear quickly. This close to the ‘bot, he could see gouges in Nitrogear’s armor, and there was a hairline crack running across one of the dark green lenses of his goggles. The ‘antennae’ on the sides of Nitrogear’s helm actually appeared to be a part of what must be the smaller ‘bot’s alt mode. They were part of a set of handlebars.

“Your optic itself looks okay…,” Nitrogear commented. “But there’s some pretty heavy damage around it. Can you see out of it?”

“Not really. It’s pretty blurry and hard to focus on anything.”

“Can you see me through it?”

“It’s still blurred. I’ve got depth perception and can see colors, but everything’s blurred. Like somebody punched me good and proper across the face.”

“There’s some shrapnel in the injuries,” Nitrogear ventured.

“Get it out. I’ll sit still.”

Appearing to brace himself, Nitrogear cautiously lifted his hand up to the undamaged side of Roller’s face, as though he meant to stabilize the larger ‘bot’s head.

“Go on,” Roller murmured.

Resting his hand against the right side of Roller’s face, Nitrogear studied the fragments of shrapnel that were jutting out of the deep, scorched gouges before clamping the pliers down on the first piece. He tried to initially gently pull it out, but it refused to budge. Concern flashed across his expression, and Nitrogear looked back to Roller.

“Just...yank the stuff out,” Roller growled through gritted dentae. “I’d rather deal with the pain now than risk that stuff getting permanently jammed in my brain module.”

Frowning and looking thoroughly nervous at the prospect, Nitrogear gritted his own dentae and refreshed his grip on the pliers...and forcibly yanked the jagged piece of metal out. Roller made a stifled snarl, pressing his face against Nitrogear’s hand, his own hands gripping the edge of the recharge bed to the point his forearms shook. Mech fluid welled up at the injury, and Nitrogear quickly began dabbing a thick, almost glue-like substance to staunch the bleeding.

“How many more pieces are there?” Roller asked tensely, dreading the answer. Between the throbs of pain he’d been able to feel that the left side of his face was notably stiff and resistant to movement.

“Uh...six more,” Nitrogear replied with an apologetic look.

“Great,” Roller grumbled. By this point, he would have killed for a C32 spiked Kremzeek, but the shock that somebody like Nitrogear would have anything along those lines may have put him offline. “Just...keep going. Get that scrap out of me.”

Nodding, still looking nervous, Nitrogear clamped the pliers down on another piece of shrapnel, gripped the handles hard, and then wrenched it free. Stifling another growl, Roller made a pained hiss as he felt a small rivulet of his mech fluid trickle down his face.

“Sorry,” Nitrogear muttered, again working to staunch the bleeding as quickly as he could.

“You going to say that each time?”

“Probably.”

Sighing heavily, Roller gritted his dentae once again when he felt the pliers clamp down on another piece of shrapnel. Nitrogear looked over the injury, then braced himself and pulled hard on the shrapnel. There was a short pulse of mech fluid as the jagged piece of metal came free, and Roller made a low, pained grunt.

“Sorry,” Nitrogear replied.

“You don’t...have to say that each time, you know,” Roller said looking up at Nitrogear. “Be sorry if you manage to jam one of those pieces of shrapnel into my brain module, alright?”

Looking momentarily alarmed at the idea, Nitrogear started to say something in response, but stopped when he saw Roller grinning up faintly at him. Making a low scoff, Nitrogear shook his head and laughed quietly before clamping the pliers down on another piece of shrapnel. Tensing for the inevitable flash of pain, Roller focused hard on the dents and scrapes over Nitrogear’s armor. If anything, it gave him something to focus on other than Nitrogear’s arm and how it went still each time before he yanked out a piece of shrapnel.

“This...this one’s stuck pretty good,” Nitrogear commented warily.

“Do it.”

Optics narrowing, Nitrogear checked his grip on the pliers before pulling with as much force as he dared. The shrapnel slid partly free with a sickening sound of metal grating against metal, but the pliers slipped and Nitrogear was sent tumbling back against the floor. Daggers of pain stabbed through Roller’s head and he made a hoarse cry as he clutched at the side of his face, mech fluid dripping down through his digits.

“I’m sorry!” Nitrogear gasped, scrabbling forward. He grasped Roller’s hand, trying to pull it away from the ‘bot’s face. “Move your hand, move your hand! I need to see!”

Growling in a mix of pain and frustration, Roller reluctantly let his hand be pulled away. Without a moment of hesitation, Nitrogear grabbed the shrapnel piece with his hand and yanked it out. Another hoarse cry tried to tear itself from Roller, but he managed to stifle it, fighting to hold still as Nitrogear dabbed a thick coating of the viscous substance on the injury.

“I...it slipped, I’m sorry,” Nitrogear said hastily, his voice trembling. “I-”

“It’s alright,” Roller interrupted, trying to keep his voice as low and steady as possible. Nitrogear sounded about ready to blow a fuse...or two. “Just keep going. You’re doing fine.”

Frowning but staying quiet, Nitrogear moved on to the next piece of shrapnel. Fortunately, it and the last two were nowhere near as stubborn as the previous one had been, and he was able to remove them with little resistance. Once the last piece of shrapnel was out, Nitrogear set to work smoothing over the staunching paste and cleaning up any excess residue.

“I, uh, never got your name,” Nitrogear commented, glancing down at Roller.

“My name?”

“Yeah. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine, too. Just thought I’d-”

“Roller. Name’s Roller.”

“Roller, huh? Well, nice to meet you, Roller,” Nitrogear replied, still working to try and clean up the worst of Roller’s injuries.

“Likewise. Pretty sure I’m getting more out of this meeting than you are.”

“Hey, you were kind of on to something when you stated I must be really lonely,” Nitrogear stated with a short shrug. “I’ll take some peaceable company where I can get it.”

“You don’t have friends or anything?”

“Not really. I...uh...have a bit of a bad habit. Tends to either drive people away or the ones that do share my habit tend to get picked up by law enforcement pretty quickly for doing...really stupid stunts.”

“Just what the hell kind of habit are you feeding?” Roller asked incredulously, sitting up.

Cringing back and looking thoroughly embarrassed, Nitrogear looked up at Roller and then down to the ground, shifting his weight back and forth before shrugging.

“Uh...just circuit speeders.”

Pausing just in case he did go offline, Roller looked over Nitrogear before tilting his head to the side. The pain was still definitely there, but the bleeding had been stopped and at least there was no feeling of stiffness. To boot, his optic seemed to be trying to reconfigure its focus.

“No kidding? What kind?”

Now it was Nitrogear’s turn to pause and he looked at Roller in surprise.

“I...uh...well, I’m...I’m not too picky.” Nitrogear suddenly frowned and shook his head quickly. “Wait, why would you need them? You look like you could wreck an entire army if you wanted to.”

A dark look flashed across Roller’s features and he turned his gaze from Nitrogear, making a short grumble of discontentment. Whatever confusion he had quickly gave way to mute alarm, and Nitrogear apprehensively took a step towards Roller.

“Uh...did I say something wrong?”

“Not on purpose,” Roller replied, his tone bitter. “Look, the stuff gives me an edge that I need. I needed it before and didn’t have it and...a lot of my friends got hurt because of it. Just because I’m stronger than some doesn’t mean that I’m strong enough. Get it?”

“Well, no, not really,” Nitrogear answered. “Because that begs the question of what’s ‘strong enough’? When your friends never get hurt?”

“It’d be a start.”

“So, you keep your friends safe forever and ever and that’s just a ‘start’? What’s the end, then?”

Though he started to reply, there was no answer that came to mind that was good enough, and Roller finally looked back at Nitrogear in defeat. The smaller ‘bot ventured a small smile and shrugged before looking back into the the repair kit.

“Just a thought, you know?” Nitrogear continued, rummaging through the contents of the kit. “Besides, I’ve never even been strong enough to help myself. So you’re kind of talking to the wrong guy about strength.”

“You’re fast, though. Was barely able to keep up with you.”

“Well, you get shot at enough or have the daylights beaten out of you enough, you learn to make due with whatever speed you have. And, if we’re going to go with your argument, I’ve not been fast enough to keep myself safe, either.”

Frowning, partly at the fact that he knew he wasn’t going to win the argument and partly at the idea of somebody actually picking a fight with somebody as scrawny as Nitrogear, Roller sighed and nodded his head. He didn’t believe a word of what Nitrogear was saying, but there wasn’t a point in arguing right now. Holding up a small vial of a light green liquid, Nitrogear offered it to Roller.

“It’s just something to help you recharge easier,” Nitrogear explained. “Helps take the bite off some of the injuries and keeps you from dreaming.”

Eyeing the liquid dubiously, Roller then looked back up to Nitrogear. Rolling his optics and making a quick scoff past a grin, Nitrogear sighed.

“I’ll take a small drink if you’re worried about it being poisoned or something,” he chuckled. “I will warn you that it tastes awful, though. Like recycled Energon mixed with low-grade oil.”

“If you’re trying to make me feel better about this, it’s not working,” Roller stated, taking the vial and swirling the contents around slowly. He then grinned at Nitrogear. “Thanks, though.”

“No problem,” Nitrogear answered, packing the repair kit back up. “I don’t have a whole lot in the way of food or drink, but I could probably get something later. I’d...rather not have to venture out at night unless I have to, you know?”

“Don’t blame you. Sounds just as bad as I remembered it to be out there,” Roller grumbled, glancing over at the door. Outside, he could still hear the occasional sounds of yelling, fighting, or, worse yet, blaster fire. Each one sounded to be a varying distance away, but all of them sounded like they were way too close.

“As you remember?” Nitrogear repeated, tilting his head to the side inquisitively.

“Yeah. It’s...it’s a bit of a long story,” Roller replied, looking over at the recharge slab then back at Nitrogear.

“Sure, sure! No problem,” Nitrogear said, waving both hands dismissively. “You can tell me later, if you’d like. You probably need the rest, anyways. Also, the lights may-”

On cue, there was a loud clack as the lights shut off, the only light coming from the monitor that Nitrogear had left on. Looking up at the ceiling, Roller scoffed before looking back at Nitrogear, who appeared to be fiddling with the goggles on his helm. After a couple moments, the goggles suddenly lit up with a bright green glow, illuminating wherever Nitrogear turned his head.

“Nice headgear,” Roller commented. “Those come with high-beams?”

“Yep,” Nitrogear replied proudly, turning his head and flicking a digit across the sides of the goggles. The green glow was promptly replaced by a set of borderline blinding, blue-white lights that almost lit up the entire room.

“I...was half-joking,” Roller said slowly, ending his statement with a chuckle.

“Oh, well, they come in handy from time to time, you know? Just in case something goes on the fritz.”

Promptly turning the lighting back to the dimmer, green light set, Nitrogear looked back at Roller, who was cautiously unscrewing the lid of the small vial. Grimacing at the liquid, Roller glanced over at Nitrogear and offered the vial to him.

“You’re not going to be offended if I ask you to make good on the offer to take a small swig of this stuff, are you?”

“Nope,” Nitrogear replied, taking the vial. “Just...I can’t drink too much or I’ll be the one passed out.”

Watching as Nitrogear quickly knocked back a sip of the green liquid, Roller watched in mild amusement as Nitrogear’s face contorted into a look of pure disgust and revulsion. Making a low gagging noise, coughing hoarsely, Nitrogear handed the vial back to Roller with a toothy grin.

“Tastes great,” he wheezed.

“I can tell,” Roller said with a nod, even though humored disbelief was written across his features. “Can’t wait to down this stuff.”

Coughing again, Nitrogear regained his composure and looked at the monitor before back to Roller. Bracing himself and eyeing the liquid dubiously, Roller made a short sigh and then drank the contents of the vial in one gulp. The sudden rush of bitterness and acridity filled Roller’s senses and he stifled a gag to keep the liquid down. Nitrogear was giving him an apologetic look, but Roller’s voice was lost for the moment as he fought back the urge to retch. Dentae gritted as he struggled to keep the liquid down, Roller shuttered off his optics as he hunched over.

“Stuff’s worse than warm, low-quality Engex.”

“Yeah...sorry,” Nitrogear murmured. “I tried to warn you, but there isn’t really a warning for the stuff.”

After a few moments, Roller could feel the first tendrils of a warm, numbing sensation begin to work through his frame. Lifting his gaze, his right optic still struggling to focus, Roller looked at Nitrogear, who smiled half-heartedly.

“Might want to lie back,” Nitrogear advised. “Stuff can kick in pretty quick.”

Nodding, Roller slowly lay back on the recharge slab, looking over at Nitrogear as the smaller ‘bot began to power it on. There was a low hum, but other than that, it seemed to power up just fine. Looking up from the controls, Nitrogear smiled and stepped back.

“Recharge for a bit, I’ll be here. Just let me know if you need anything.”

“Yeah…” Roller lifted his gaze. “Hey, Nitrogear?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

Pausing, Nitrogear gave Roller a sincere smile.

“No problem.”

 


	2. First Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally convinced to recharge in order to recover, Roller finds himself questioning Nitrogear's motives as they seem to be too altruistic for a scrawny circuit speeder addict.

He’d watched the show with the volume turned down almost completely, not wanting to take the chance of waking Roller, but Nitrogear was able to follow the show well enough. Sitting cross-legged and hunched over in the makeshift chair, Nitrogear shifted his weight and glanced over his shoulder at the still form of Roller. He seemed to be recharging well enough, but every now and then he would mutter something that Nitrogear couldn’t quite make out. Apparently, there hadn’t been enough of the liquid to fully knock Roller out.

Sighing, Nitrogear rubbed the back of his helm and turned his attention back to the monitor, struggling to hear what they were saying over the sudden flare of static from the audio. Every now and then, he would glance over to the door apprehensively. The sounds of fighting had slowed down, but every now and then the silence was still broken by the discordant noises. Just so long as they didn’t try to come through that door, things should be okay.

Checking the time, Nitrogear made a face when he realized how little time had actually passed, and looked back at the monitor. The show was over and at this rate, the static was overtaking both the audio and video, making staring at it just an exercise in futility. Sighing, Nitrogear clicked off the monitor and stared up at the ceiling, clicking his goggles back on.

Again, Roller made a rough grumble in his sleep, and Nitrogear peeked over the back of the chair at the larger ‘bot. By that point, though, Roller had fallen still again. Frowning with a sigh, Nitrogear silently climbed off the chair and walked over to the recharge slab. Looking over Roller’s massive frame, Nitrogear frowned and leaned forward cautiously, trying to inspect the other injuries he hadn’t been able to get to earlier.

There were scorch marks along Roller’s body, but they appeared mostly superficial. Scars from blaster fire were flecked across Roller’s body, and there were a set of deep gouges on Roller’s left side. Sighing, Nitrogear glanced back over at the small repair kit before walking back to it and opening it up. He didn’t have much left in the way of supplies for it, but maybe he could clean up a few more of the injuries. Once Roller was awake, though. Nitrogear didn’t want to take the risk of waking Roller, or worse yet, waking Roller and having the larger ‘bot mad at Nitrogear for working on him without his permission.

A sudden clatter of gunfire that could have very well been right outside the door caused Nitrogear to gasp hoarsely and fall back, the repair kit tumbling to the floor with a clang. Wide optics going from the kit to the door and then briefly to Roller before back to the door, Nitrogear sat perfectly still...waiting. He could hear footfalls outside, but whoever they belonged to seemed more interested in fighting with their primary target than investigating the noise behind the door.

Carefully and as quietly as he could, Nitrogear began gathering up the contents that had spilled from the repair kit, his optics on the door almost the entire time, only glancing down to see what he was picking up. The fight seemed to be escalating outside, and Nitrogear hastened his actions.

Once he had picked up the contents and packed them into the repair kit, Nitrogear silently darted back to the recharge slab. Promptly sitting down on the floor beside it, his back pressed hard against the wall, Nitrogear held the repair kit close and locked his gaze on the door. The fight had gone into a full-scale brawl, and Nitrogear could hear furious shouting and blows being thrown and landing...hard.

Grimacing, wishing he had been born with the ability to go invisible, Nitrogear clung to the repair kit and glanced up at Roller, who seemed to have been able to continue sleeping through the entire ordeal. Sighing heavily, Nitrogear looked back at the door, wincing as he heard a series of steady, hard blows make contact with their target...who was growing quieter and quieter with each strike.

“...Primus,” Nitrogear hissed, an involuntary tremble shuddering through him. “Just...leave them alone…”

Eventually, the short cries of pain went completely silent, but the blows continued to land hard, a sickening, metallic grating noise followed by a squishing noise following each strike.

Unconsciously scooting closer to the recharge slab, Nitrogear stared in mute horror at the door, another tremble rushing through his frame. As much as he hated to think it, the phrase ‘Better them than me’ crossed his mind and seemed to remain stuck there, no matter how hard Nitrogear tried to dismiss it.

Eventually, the attacks stopped and the night air was once again silent. Making a long, quiet sigh, Nitrogear let his head fall forward slightly, still clutching the repair kit. It was going to be a long night…

 

 

* * *

 

 

Groaning as his systems began to return to full operating levels, Roller winced as his optics flicked online. The first thing he noticed was that the vision in his left optic was notably clearer, though still a little fuzzy. The second thing he noticed was the much appreciated lack of ache and pain that had been wracking his body since Nitrogear had found him.

Nitrogear…

Lifting himself up and propping himself up on his forearms, Roller looked around the small room. It was completely empty…

Suspicion quickly cutting through the residual grogginess from his recharge cycle, Roller sat up and moved to the edge of the recharge slab. He cautiously flexed both legs, testing the joints for any sort of weak point before climbing off the recharge slab. The moment his pedes hit the ground, his right one bumped up against something hard, and Roller quickly turned, gaze snapping down.

Nitrogear was huddled up against the wall, clinging to a repair kit, though it appeared he was in a low power state at this point. Frowning, Roller knelt down, trying to inspect the smaller ‘bot for any possible injuries. Not seeing any, he reached forward and lightly shook Nitrogear.

“Hey, Nitrogear,” Roller said in a hushed tone. “Nitrogear, you okay?”

“...hrmnn...not yet,” Nitrogear muttered. There was a brief pause, and he suddenly sat straight up with a sharp gasp, optics wide and panic written across his features. “Don’t let them in!”

“What?” Roller asked, glancing over his shoulder at the door, then back at Nitrogear. “There’s nobody out there, Nitro. Relax.”

Looking at Roller, obviously still trying to work through the fog of fatigue, Nitrogear frowned, looked past the larger ‘bot at the door, then back to Roller. After a few moments, Nitrogear sighed heavily and fell back against the wall, gaze falling back down.

“...sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Roller countered, still trying to look over Nitrogear. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Nitrogear replied with a nod. “There was...a fight outside last night. Pretty sure somebody didn’t make it out in one piece.”

Reflexively tensing, Roller narrowed his optics, mentally grateful that the sharp pain on the left side of his face had since been replaced with a dull ache.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You’re not my bodyguard,” Nitrogear replied with a weak shrug.

“Maybe not. But I’m not exactly thrilled at the idea of being attacked in the middle of the night. And it’s the least I can do is return the favor for saving my hide out there. And for patching me up. And for letting me stay here. I can keep going, if you need.”

Laughing weakly, Nitrogear shook his head and slowly stood up, still holding onto the repair kit. Able to keep eye contact with the smaller ‘bot even when kneeled down, Roller straightened up, pointing at the repair kit.

“You injured? You’re holding onto that thing like it’s a lifeline.”

“Oh...no, I’m fine,” Nitrogear replied, finally loosening his clutch on the repair kit. “I was going to offer to fix up a few more of those injuries of yours. May be able to close up a couple of those gouges.”

Bristling at the idea of anybody using a surgical welder around him, Roller studied Nitrogear. The smaller ‘bot hadn’t double crossed him yet; the operative word of that sentence being ‘yet’. Even so, if Nitrogear had been intending to really do him some harm, he passed up a golden opportunity to do so while Roller was recharging.

“Alright. Maybe later today, then,” Roller said, standing up with a muted grunt. “Kind of tired of being poked and prodded at with medical equipment for the time being.”

“Okay.” Nitrogear glanced over Roller quickly before frowning. “You sure you’re going to be okay until then?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Bonus of being stronger than some is you can take a pretty good beating and still keep going.”

“I’m not sure where to be in awe or jealous,” Nitrogear replied with a faint smirk. “How about both?”

“If your feet were as fast as your mouth, you’d be the fastest guy this side of the galaxy,” Roller chuckled.

“Might help,” Nitrogear commented, putting the repair kit away. After a pause, he looked over at the door and then to Roller. “I can go out and get some stuff to eat and drink. Not sure if you want to stay here or...what.”

“May be easier if I stay here,” Roller replied, looking away. “Good chance that somebody out there may recognize me.”

“Recognize you?” Nitrogear repeated with a frown.

“Yeah. Comes with the territory of being a former cop. Pretty sure there’s quite a few people out there that would remember my mug. That or it’s been gouged up enough that they won’t recognize me. Or, if I’m lucky, they won’t care enough to do anything.”

The word ‘cop’ had made Nitrogear freeze in place, and he stared at Roller, making a poor attempt to hide the horror that was dawning across his expression.

“You...cop?”

Pausing and frowning, Roller’s expression then gave way to a faint smirk and he crossed his arms, shifting his weight as he did so.

“If I didn’t think you were going to blow a fuse and drop dead on me, I’d start interrogating you,” Roller stated. “But relax...I said former cop. Got on the wrong side of the people in power and...let’s just say it didn’t end well. Besides, former cop or not, I can’t really lecture you about using circuit speeders if I’ve been using C32 as a mixer.”

Though there was the quickest flicker of a grin across Nitrogear’s features that was gone as quickly as it appeared, he still didn’t move. Instead, his optics glanced over Roller repeatedly before studying the larger ‘bot’s expression. Laughing, Roller shook his head and relaxed his posture.

“Nitro, relax,” he said, giving the ‘bot a level look. “You’ve gone out of your way to help me out and gone above and beyond the whole idea of just being a ‘good citizen’. I may be a lot of things, but I’m not about to double-cross the guy who risked his own life to help mine, alright?”

After a few more moments of not moving and being silent, Nitrogear finally sighed heavily and visibly relaxed. Looking up at Roller, he managed another weak grin and shook his head.

“You’ve got to stop scaring me like that. My spark can only take so much before it’ll give up.”

“Hey now, better tell that spark that it doesn’t have permission to give up. Least not until you’ve finished patching me up,” Roller replied with a grin. His sense of humor may have been a bit off, but it seemed to be the quickest way to calm Nitrogear down. The poor ‘bot seemed like he was on a constant high from circuit speeders and that his circuits would burn out at a moment’s notice.

“Yeah, yeah,” Nitrogear laughed weakly, rubbing the back of his helm. He glanced around the room, then back to Roller. “There’s...not a whole lot to do. You may be able to pick up a couple channels over the air, depending on how much interference there is. There are a couple of books you could read, as well.” Nitrogear motioned to the small set of shelves that housed the repair kit. On the bottom was a small stack of datapads.

“Thanks,” Roller stated with a nod. He glanced over Nitrogear and gave the ‘bot a half-hearted sigh. “You really are blindly trusting, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I am,” Nitrogear answered with a shrug. “Probably get me killed one day. But, who knows? Maybe I’ll meet the next leader of Cybertron and I can live out the rest of my days in the lap of luxury.”

“Okay, might want to ease up on the hallucinations there,” Roller laughed. “For now, how about we agree that I’ll hold down the fort and keep this place secure?”

“It’s a deal. I’ll be back shortly.”

Tapping on the keypad, stepping back as the door slid open, Nitrogear glanced down at the ground and made a grimace before taking a wide step across the threshold and darting down the alleyway. The door screeched shut behind him, and Roller found himself alone in the room.

Sighing, he looked back over at the recharge slab, then to the set of shelves where the datapads were. His gaze finally going to the monitor, Roller reached up and gingerly ran the tips of his digits across the left side of his face. Feeling himself tense at how extensive the injuries seemed to be, Roller let his hand fall to his side as he walked over to the monitor. He was about to click it on when something caught his gaze out of the corner of his uninjured optic.

Frowning, Roller walked over to the wall, which appeared to be pockmarked with dents. Not gunfire, but…

Clenching a fist, Roller carefully set his fist up against the dent, feeling his insides go momentarily cold as it seemed to make a partial match. Granted, his fist was far bigger than the one that had left the dent on the wall, but there was also no denying that the dent was wider than anything that Nitrogear could have left. And that was even going so far as to entertain the idea that Nitrogear had the strength to even leave a dent in the wall.

Sighing and shaking his head, Roller looked down the wall. There were at least three more dents, and he followed them along the wall, stopping when he came to a faded, though unmistakable, stain of mech fluid on the floor. Though he was initially surprised by how disheartening the sight was, Roller quickly realized that the reaction deserved merit. If Nitrogear really was as selfless as he had been so far, Roller couldn’t think of a single reason that the ‘bot deserved to get the daylights beat out of him. Looking over his shoulder at the door, Roller glowered at it, part of him wishing that Nitrogear had woke him up last night.

Dismissing the thoughts, mentally reminding himself that he was in no way capable of being somebody’s hero, Roller walked over to the monitor and sat down on the chair. Clicking on the monitor, Roller worked his way through the channels, most of them too static-ridden and garbled to be of any sort of entertainment, but finally, Roller came across one that was viewable.

Leaning back in the chair, Roller watched it in silence, not realizing that his hands were unconsciously clenching and unclenching. In the back of his mind, he was silently hoping that Nitrogear would be able to get his hands on a couple of circuit speeders, but Roller also made a mental vow not to bring them up again. No need to be greedy of the hospitality he was being shown.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Holding back and keeping to the shadows, Nitrogear watched as other ‘bots passed by, waiting for a brief opening in the crowds before darting forward, through one of the main streets, and then down a familiar alleyway. Cradling a small supply crate to his side, Nitrogear quickly turned one of the corners and continued darting down the alleyway. He could hear the marketplace, if you could even call it that, noises fading somewhat behind him, but Nitrogear didn’t break stride.

He was still concerned about Roller, regardless of the larger ‘bot’s insistence that he was going to be alright, and Nitrogear wanted to hurry up and get the supplies back to his residence. It didn’t help that the money he’d used to purchase the supplies with hadn’t exactly been his to begin with, either…

Stopping at a door, Nitrogear knocked on it quickly, sighing when he heard scrambling and then the sound of a small door being slammed shut. Moving his weight from one pede to the other impatiently, Nitrogear frowned in exasperation at the door before knocking on it again.

“Blinker, it’s me. Hurry up and open the door!”

After a brief wait, the door slid open a crack, a pair of pale red optics looking out from the darkness at Nitrogear. Returning the stare with one of his own, Nitrogear glanced past the smaller ‘bot before back down at him.

“You going to make me stand out here or what?”

“What...what do you want, Nitrogear?”

“Same thing I’ve always come to you for.”

“And...what were you going to pay me with?”

“Well, I’ve got money. Or, judging by the fact it’s darker than the Pit behind you, I can get another stretch of power set up to siphon off to your place. Your choice.”

Again, there was a short wait, and then the door slid open just enough to let Nitrogear slip in. The smaller ‘bot quickly shut the door behind them, then looked up at Nitrogear as he clicked on his goggle lights. Looking around the room, which was somewhat similar to his own, repurposed storage unit that he called home, save for the fact that this one was an utter mess. Old circuit speeder vials were scattered across the floor, various trash and debris, and frayed wires jutted out from one section of the wall.

“You know, you could possibly clean this place up once and a while. Might help with the paranoia.”

“Why? I know where everything is,” Blinker countered. “So why would I want to mess that up and rearrange stuff just to lose it?”

“How can you even see where the stuff is in the first place?”

“Look, were you here for circuit speeders or to give me cleaning tips?”

“Circuit speeders.”

“That’s better,” Blinker retorted, walking over to a small chest in the corner of the dark room. “Mind hitting those high beams of yours?”

Clicking on the brighter lights, Nitrogear aimed the beams where Blinker was crouched. Blinker’s alt mode was a small car, but he practically never transformed. Part of Nitrogear wondered if his T-cog was broken, but given how paranoid Blinker could be, he’d never had the nerve to ask. Blinker’s armor was primarily a dark red, but dents, scratches, and even a couple of gouges on the armor had faded the color. Underneath it was a just as dark blue undertone that seemed to run down his midsection and upper legs, all of which were scoring the same damage marks.

“Did you have a preference?”

“C32, if you’ve got it.”

Pausing and looking up, wincing at the bright glare from the high beams, Blinker gave Nitrogear a scrunched up, surprised look.

“Going for the hard stuff this time, huh?”

“Yeah. How many you have?”

“Um...let’s see...I’ve got nine.”

“I’ll take them all off your hands,” Nitrogear replied quickly. “Even pay for them and get you power for a while.”

“You’re not trying to kill your stupid self, are you?” Blinker asked incredulously. “You take these all in one go-”

“I’m not taking them all, bolts for brains,” Nitrogear retorted. He was starting to get nervous being here this long. “Some are for me and some are for a...friend.”

“Friend? When do you have friends? Or is this another one of those you’ve picked up off the streets that’s going to try and smash your head in?”

“Yes or no, Blinker?”

“Yes,” Blinker answered, optics narrowing. “But I want both the money and power for this place.”

“I told you I would, didn’t I? And...toss in a couple others while you’re at it. I don’t care, just...something not as strong as the C32.”

“Yep. I know what you like.”

Grimacing at the statement, Nitrogear glanced back at the door. This was taking way too long…

“Here,” Blinker said, holding up a small rectangular container. “You’ll get these when I can see.”

“Fine. Where’s the main energy port for this place again?”

Beckoning Nitrogear to follow, Blinker led him to a back wall where there were exposed power cables and a routing panel. Setting the supply crate down in front of him so he could keep an eye on it, Nitrogear knelt down and reached up to the sides of his helm. Grasping the ends for two connector cables on the sides of his goggles, he pulled them free and hooked them up to the routing panel. Optics flickering momentarily as he began to work through the various security measures put in place, Nitrogear undid another connector cable from his wrist, attaching it to the cable just below the routing panel.

Normally, nobody cared whether or not a little bit of power disappeared off into this area, but Nitrogear had had enough close calls that he wasn’t about to risk anything. Optics narrowing in concentration as he set a hand down on the supply crate to steady himself, Nitrogear continued through another firewall before working to reroute a power supply to Blinker’s home...for lack of a better word.

There was a low hum and the lights then clacked on, Blinker making a surprised noise as he staggered around in the unexpected light. Once he had gotten his bearings, he grinned at Nitrogear, who was already hastily unplugging the cables and letting them slide back and lock into place.

“Well, there’s something I don’t see very often. All four walls!”

Glancing over at Blinker before shaking his head and standing up, taking the supply crate with him, Nitrogear turned to Blinker.

“How much were you wanting for them?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

When the door screeched open, Roller promptly jumped up from the chair out of instinct, standing up straight and glowering at the door until Nitrogear quickly scrambled in. Forcing himself to relax with a low sigh, Roller eyed the supply crate that Nitrogear had tucked under his arm. Quickly shutting the door, Nitrogear noticeably relaxed before turning around, but once he saw Roller standing, he gave the ‘bot a puzzled look.

“Noise kind of surprised me,” Roller muttered, shrugging. He motioned to the crate, bitterly noting that his actions were still a little stiff. “Manage to get anything good?”

“I think so,” Nitrogear replied, trying to hide a proud grin. “Food’s a bit...lackluster, but the drinks are good. And the other stuff is reliably good, too.”

“Other stuff?”

Reaching into the supply crate, Nitrogear produced a C32 circuit speeder capsule, a knowing grin working across his face. Sighing in relief, Roller chuckled and gave Nitrogear an appreciative look.

“You managed to get them.”

“Yeah, I did,” Nitrogear replied, walking over and setting the supply crate down on the recharge slab. “Also managed to get a bit more of that stuff to staunch any bleeding that may occur, along with a couple more of those tasty drinks you like before recharging.”

“You managed to afford all this?” Roller asked as he walked over and stood behind Nitrogear, sounding surprised.

“Uh...yeah,” Nitrogear replied quickly.

“How?”

“Just...ways,” Nitrogear muttered. “Think of it more like a bartering system.”

“Alright,” Roller stated as he crossed his arms, not quite believing Nitrogear but not exactly looking for an argument at the time. “What else you manage to get?”

Nitrogear held up a small box of Kremzeek and Roller had to stop himself from snatching it out of Nitrogear’s hand.

“Go on,” Nitrogear offered, holding the box up a bit higher. “I got the majority of them for you. I can only drink a couple before I’m absolutely blitzed.”

Chuckling at the idea of somebody like Nitrogear getting anywhere near a ‘blitzed’ level, Roller took the box and looked it over. Turning and looking up at Roller, Nitrogear gave him a weak smile, leaning back against the recharge slab. His gaze going from the box to Nitrogear, Roller frowned when he saw the expression.

“Something happen out there? You’re acting jumpier than usual, which is saying something.”

“Just...couldn’t quite shake the feeling that I was being followed,” Nitrogear answered with a shrug. “My ways of bartering aren’t exactly smiled upon by...certain...people.”

“Didn’t get yourself into trouble, did you?”

“No. I’m fine.” Looking over Roller quickly, he tilted his head to the side. “How’re you feeling?”

“Been better, but I’ve been a hell of a lot worse. Vision in my left optic seems to be clearing up, too. Still a bit blurry, but there’s definite improvement.” Roller looked back down at the Kremzeek box and then back up to Nitrogear. “You...wouldn’t happen to have a straw for this, would you? Can’t drink the things without them.”

Nitrogear’s optics flicked across Roller’s expression before he grinned widely, reached into the supply crate, and held up a straw.

“And one of those…?”

“Coming right up,” Nitrogear stated, handing over one of the C32 capsules.

After stabbing a small opening in the box, Roller carefully poured the circuit speeder into the Kremzeek, Roller looked over at Nitrogear, who was working to separate out the contents of the supply crate. Sighing, Roller put the straw back in the box and swirled it around slowly, trying to mix the contents. Walking over to the shelves, Nitrogear picked up the repair kit and carried it back to the recharge slab, refilling it.

“You’ve got to be honest with me, Nitro,” Roller said with a shake of his head. “I’m still having a real hard time wrapping my mind around somebody being this helpful. Especially if you’ve had guests that leave dents in the wall like that.”

Looking to where Roller motioned, Nitrogear winced and sighed. He snatched up one of the Kremzeek boxes and a C32 capsule, angrily jabbing the straw into the box before pouring the circuit speeder into the drink. Frowning, Roller took a long drink of the spiked Kremzeek, resisting the urge to shutter his optics when the familiar burn of the drink flooded his senses.

“Look, if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, and I’m definitely not complaining, either,” Roller continued. “But there’s being hospitable and then there’s being a downright miracle sent from the Matrix. Just trying to figure out why you’re going this far out of your way to help somebody you’ve never met.”

Giving Roller a disbelieving look, Nitrogear sipped at the spiked Kremzeek slowly, leaning back against the recharge slab again. Sighing, he glanced away, then back at Roller as he set the Kremzeek down on the recharge slab.

“I got...left here,” Nitrogear explained. “It’s a long, ugly story, but the long and the short of it is that I trusted the wrong people and I got dumped here. Ever since then I’ve just been stuck. Nobody wants anything to do with a scrawny circuit speeder addict whose most useful trait is light up goggles, and...I guess I can’t really blame them.”

Frowning and taking another long swig of the spiked Kremzeek, Roller shook his head and scoffed roughly. There was a still very raw sense of familiarity with being left behind, and he had to remind himself to keep his cool. That it wasn’t Nitrogear’s fault.

“That’s no reason to up and abandon somebody,” Roller countered, jabbing his index digit at Nitrogear. “Just because they can’t help right then and there doesn’t mean that they can’t help in the future. Besides, if you’re judging a person on how useful they are to you and only that, you need to double check your own priorities.”

The straw still caught in his mouth, Nitrogear gave Roller a wide grin and sipped at the Kremzeek.

“Thanks for explaining why I’m helping you for me, big guy.”

Stopping, Roller gave Nitrogear a look that was a mix of surprise and defeat. Nitrogear only took another sip of the Kremzeek in response, his grin never faltering. Chuckling quietly and shaking his head, Roller shifted his weight and sighed in resignation.

“It’s really that simple, huh?”

“Yep. I know it sounds insane, but...one of those things that I’d rather not have somebody go through what I went through.”

“Insane or not, I owe you big time. If anything just for the Kremzeek.”

“Nah, you don’t owe me anything,” Nitrogear replied with a shake of his head before taking another sip of his drink. “Besides, I’ve been wanting to get my hands on some of the stuff for a while now. This just gave me a good excuse.”

 


	3. No Fighter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though Nitrogear demonstrates quite well how he is no fighter, he nonetheless charges headlong to try and help a friend. Though he tries to keep up, Roller loses sight of Nitrogear, leaving the 'bot to fend for himself in an alleyway fight.

Staring up at the ceiling as Nitrogear carefully worked on sealing some of the gouges on his side, Roller glanced over at the Kremzeek box that was sitting on the back of the chair. He was already on his second one, though he’d made a mental note to try and pace himself. Nitrogear was humming quietly to himself as he worked, the small surgical welder hissing as it closed the gouges.

“Still doing okay?” Nitrogear asked for about the fourth time.

“Yeah,” Roller answered. He glanced down at Nitrogear, even though he could only really see the handlebars that were set on the smaller ‘bot’s helm. “I told you if you hit a sore spot, I’d let you know. ...of course, everywhere still feels sore.”

“Sorry about that,” Nitrogear murmured in reply. “You’re...probably going to be in pain for a while, depending on what happened. Do you remember what happened to cause these injuries?”

“A bit, yeah. Details are still kind of hazy, though.” Gritting his dentae when he felt the heat of the surgical welder begin to seep farther against his sensors, Roller sighed heavily. “How do you know about all this medical stuff?”

“I only know the basics. You kind of learn how to patch yourself up after getting banged up enough times. There’s also an actual medic who lives around here that I’ve learned a couple tricks from, but he seems to be missing a lot.”

“How many times have you actually been attacked?”

“More than I’d really care to remember. Worst one was the one that left those dents in the wall. I was in and out for days, and it messed up my right leg pretty bad,” Nitrogear explained, his voice lowering as he spoke. He then managed a short, bitter laugh. “The part I was really upset about is that he cracked my goggles.”

Noticing that Nitrogear had stopped welding, Roller sat up, resting on his forearms. The smaller ‘bot’s gaze was at the floor, but Roller doubted if he was even aware of it at this point. Frowning, Roller shifted his weight so as to try and snap Nitrogear out of his daze. It worked and Nitrogear looked up quickly at Roller, forcing a weak smile when he did.

“Got to say, you’re pretty tough for somebody your size,” Roller commented. “For everything you’ve gone through and to still be standing, that’s not something to scoff at. I get hit once and I’m down and out.”

“I’m betting that whatever hit you would have obliterated me,” Nitrogear countered. He set the small welder aside and picked up the box of spiked Kremzeek he had been nursing throughout the procedure. Taking a small sip, he looked back at Roller. “You always this hard on yourself?”

“I have to be,” Roller grumbled, turning his gaze away from Nitrogear’s. “When you’re born strong, you have to make sure you don’t let yourself slip up. People count on you and you can’t let them down, no matter what gets thrown at you. ...and Primus knows I’ve let more than enough people down.”

Nitrogear had been sipping quietly at the Kremzeek as he listened, concern lightly etched on his expression as Roller continued. After a few moments, he frowned and shook his head.

“Sounds to me like you’re being too hard on yourself and you’re pushing yourself past your breaking point. And what do you mean by ‘born strong’?”

Making an irritated grumble, Roller looked away before back at Nitrogear, who was staring at him expectantly.

“I’m a green spark. Point One Percenter.”

Promptly choking on the Kremzeek, Nitrogear coughed and gagged as he struggled to regain his composure. Looking slightly alarmed, Roller sat up and patted the smaller ‘bot on the back quickly, taking the Kremzeek box from Nitrogear to keep it from spilling. Heaving, Nitrogear gripped the side of the recharge slab, trying to force away the horrible burning sensation that choking on the Kremzeek had left.

“Don’t die on me,” Roller said with a short, vaguely nervous laugh. “I’d feel pretty bad if I managed to kill you with just something I said!”

Coughing hoarsely, Nitrogear finally got enough of his composure back that he could speak, and he stared at Roller.

“You’re a Point One Percenter?”

“Yeah. Is that a bad thing?”

“No, no! Just...uh...I’ve never met a...nice...one.”

“A ‘nice one’?” Roller repeated, his tone reflexively steeling over. “Just how many have you met?”

“Well, just one other that I know of,” Nitrogear muttered, scooting away from Roller slightly.

The action wasn’t unnoticed, though, and Roller glanced over Nitrogear, surprised to feel a small twinge of hurt when the smaller ‘bot moved away. It wasn’t like he had specifically requested to be what he was, and he hadn’t harmed Nitrogear in any way.

Sighing and dismissing the thoughts, Roller sat up and got off the recharge slab, striding over to the chair. Snatching up the box of Kremzeek and taking a long drink, he looked back at Nitrogear, who was fiddling with the surgical welder. Optics narrowing, Roller leaned against the seat and looked away, trying to put his focus elsewhere. His gaze fell on the dents in the wall, then inevitably to the mech fluid stain on the floor. Roller’s mind began working through just how hard the punches must have been to dent the wall...and the sort of damage they must have done when they did finally connect.

“Sorry,” Nitrogear murmured, his gaze still on the surgical welder. “That was rude of me to say that. I kind of talk too much.”

“Forget it,” Roller snapped back. “You’ve got your reasons for what you said, and I’m not going to argue them.”

Wincing at Roller’s tone, Nitrogear began fiddling with the surgical welder faster, his left pede tapping against the floor quickly. Turning his attention back to the dents on the wall, Roller finished off the box of Kremzeek, already wanting another. The only noise in the room now was Nitrogear’s pede tapping against the floor quickly, and finally, Roller sighed heavily and looked back at the smaller ‘bot.

“Was it the same guy who put the dents in the wall?”

“Huh?” Nitrogear asked, though he didn’t look up.

“The not so nice Point One Percenter,” Roller said before motioning to the dents on the wall. “Was he the one who put the dents on the wall and messed up your goggles and leg?”

That was enough to get Nitrogear to look up, but it was at the wall, not Roller.

“Oh, no… No, the Point One Percenter I know of wouldn’t have left me alive if he’d managed to catch me. Those were just from some big guy that apparently thought my life was worth a rigged up monitor.”

“He beat you up that bad over a monitor?”

“Yeah. Hope it was worth it. He could’ve just asked,” Nitrogear muttered, stretching his right leg. “He was threatening enough I would’ve just given it to him.”

Silence fell between them, with Nitrogear turning his gaze back to the surgical welder and Roller staring at the empty Kremzeek box in his hand. Finally, he made a slight motion to the supply crate, which was set on the top shelf.

“Mind if I…?”

“Go for it,” Nitrogear replied, a half-hearted smile flashing across his features. “Like I said, the majority of them are for you.”

Walking over to the supply crate and opening it, Roller made a short grunt when he felt the ache in his back and left shoulder flare up. This recovery was taking longer than he’d anticipated, but soon enough he’d be back up to working order and then…what?

The thought made Roller stop and he stared at the supply crate, his gaze on an unopened box of Kremzeek, but it was the farthest thing from his mind at the moment. Where would he go? It was already apparent that he wasn’t needed, or...wanted, by his former compatriots. He couldn’t just go back to being a cop, and he had nobody he could really call on.

The feeling of rejection was not lost on Roller and it cut deep, the large ‘bot reflexively gripping the edge of the shelf tightly as he tried to force back the thoughts. He’d done the absolute best he could. Hell, he’d even taken up an addiction that ran the risk of possibly giving him cancer to make up for the fact he wasn’t strong enough! When was enough-

“Roller…?”

Whirling around, Roller scowled furiously at Nitrogear, who had taken a few cautious steps towards him. The moment his gaze locked with Nitrogear’s, though, the smaller ‘bot quickly backpedaled, panic spreading across his features. Just as quickly as he’d turned around, though, Roller realized he was glowering at the wrong person, and he forced himself to relax.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed heavily. “I...I just kind of got lost in my own thoughts there.”

“You okay now?” Nitrogear ventured, though he didn’t move.

“Yeah, yeah...I’m fine. Sorry if I scared you or anything.” Roller sighed again, his shoulders slumping as his gaze fell to the floor. “Just realized that...I…that I…”

Concern overtaking his apprehension, Nitrogear stepped towards Roller and lightly set a hand on his forearm.

“Roller?”

“That I have nowhere to go,” Roller finished, his voice tight. “There’s no point in me recovering. You’ve wasted your supplies, buddy. Would’ve been better if you’d left me out there.”

“Hey, cut that sort of scrap out,” Nitrogear interjected weakly. “There is a point in you recovering, and I’m way too stingy to waste supplies.”

Looking down at Nitrogear’s hand, then up to Nitrogear, who was giving him a small, but sincere, smile, Roller forced a weak smile of his own and nodded. He didn’t believe a word of what Nitrogear was saying, but right now he was far too tired and feeling far too defeated to argue.

“Thanks, Nitro.”

“No problem. And I’m not kicking you out any time soon,” Nitrogear continued. “Though rent is collected monthly.”

Chuckling quietly, Roller nodded and picked up the Kremzeek, along with another circuit speeder capsule. Nitrogear was collecting the tools he’d been using to repair some of Roller’s injuries, and Roller went back to lean against the chair. He was still trying to think about what he would do once his wounds were completely repaired, but at least he had a place to stay. Better than being outside, in any case.

“What’s the longest you’ve let anybody stay?”

Pausing momentarily to think, Nitrogear then put the tools back in the small repair kit, humming as he mulled over the question.

“About a month.”

“That long?”

“Yeah. They were messed up pretty bad.”

“They make it?”

“I...don’t know. I hope so. I went out to get stuff and when I came back, they were gone. Nothing was missing, and the place was in the exact condition it had been when I left.”

“Maybe they remembered where they needed to be.”

“They were barely coherent,” Nitrogear replied grimly. “I was practically spoon feeding them. I mean, they could have made a recovery that fast, but…”

“Yeah, never mind,” Roller said, shaking his head. “If they were that bad off, then I doubt they made a miraculous recovery and walked out on their own. No chance they were faking it?”

“If they were, they need to apply to be an actor.”

“What do you think happened?”

Nitrogear stopped, looking down at the Kremzeek box, shaking it slowly to try and judge how much of the drink was left. Shrugging quickly, the corner of his mouth twitched before he finally answered.

“...that he was picked up. People can disappear here and nobody can do a thing about it. At least, nobody around here.”

“Don’t you have a code lock on the door?”

“Yeah, but what’s to say somebody couldn’t have broken in? It’s pretty basic. Just enough to give somebody who is just looking for a quick break in enough trouble to, hopefully, not make it worth their time.”

Grumbling under his breath about ‘overpaid government elite’, Roller took another long drink before looking back at the wall. There was still a part of him that was trying to work through just how terrified Nitrogear must have been for somebody to turn that kind of wrath on him. If glaring at the ‘bot sent him running, actually getting hit must have left him borderline catatonic.

“...still mad at me?”

Lifting his gaze and looking back at Nitrogear, Roller studied him for a long, silent moment. Though he didn’t say anything else, Nitrogear’s yellow optics were flicking across Roller’s mute expression. Sighing, Roller gave him a half-grin and shook his head.

“No. No point in me being mad at you. You’ve got your reasons, and judging by what you’ve told me and what I’ve seen, they’re pretty valid. Besides, not the first time I’ve had somebody tell me I scare them.” Pausing, Roller took a sip of the Kremzeek. “Of course, that’s usually after I’ve had to bend their knees the wrong way because they weren’t really interested in talking through any...disagreement we were having.”

Making a face and a slightly disgusted noise, Nitrogear glanced down at his knee joints and then back up to Roller.

“I think I’d give up my innermost Energon before getting my knees bent the wrong way,” he commented, shuddering.

“Not to be offensive, here, but have you ever thought of trying to fight back?” Roller asked, glancing over Nitrogear. “You’re not that scrawny, you know. May not have a lot in the way of brute strength but if you got enough momentum built up you could probably land a pretty solid punch.”

Nitrogear stared at Roller, trying to figure out if he was joking or not. Sighing, Nitrogear stood up and held out his arms slightly.

“Do I really look like I’m anywhere remotely near a fighter?”

“Not like that, no. You’re leaving every vulnerable part of you exposed, namely your head and midsection. Not to mention with your hands like that it’d be way too easy to get you in a hold of some kind. If that’s your fighting stance, then I’m starting to see how you got the bolts beat out of you.” Roller stood up and nodded towards Nitrogear. “Come on, how would actually try to fight somebody?”

“By running away.”

Giving Nitrogear an exasperated look, Roller walked over, Nitrogear instinctively cringing back.

“Come on, I haven’t hurt you yet and I’m not going to start now. Now, let’s say you can’t run. Then what?”

“I curl up and try to keep myself from getting damaged too much.”

“Have you ever actually fought back?”

“Um...once.”

“And?”

“I got thrown across the room.”

“How did you fight back?”

“I...uh...charged them.”

Sighing, Roller shook his head and looked down at Nitrogear, who was returning the look, albeit his expression was laced with a mix of embarrassment and faint apprehension. Crossing his arms, Nitrogear shrugged and looked away momentarily.

“Running away has worked for me thus far. Why do I need to change now?”

“Eventually, there will be a point when you can’t run any more. And the last thing you want to do is put your back to the enemy. Just makes you that much more of a target than an opponent.”

Frowning, Nitrogear took a small step back, arms still crossed, his gaze flicking away from Roller again before back to him.

“Do we really need to talk about this? Kind of getting nervous.”

“Nervous about what?”

“I don’t know. I just...get nervous when it comes to fighting in general.”

“Look, when we do part ways, I’d like to at least think I’ve given you a couple pointers on how to defend yourself,” Roller argued. “But if it’s bugging you that much, we don’t have to go over them.”

Making a short huff, Nitrogear frowned at the floor, then looked back up at Roller. Unfolding his arms and tilting his head to the side, he eyed the larger ‘bot narrowly.

“You’re not going to make any joint go in a direction it’s not supposed to?”

“No.”

“And I’m not going to get thrown?”

“No.”

“And you’re not going to rip my face off?”

“Primus, just how violent do you think I am?”

“I just want to be sure!” Nitrogear cried. “I’m all for pointers so long as it doesn’t involve me getting injured.”

“Nitro,” Roller grumbled, pinching lightly at his forehelm. “I have no intent or desire to hurt you. If I was going to do that, I would have done so when you first found me. You’re one of the few decent people I’ve run in to and I don’t make it a habit of beating up decent people. So, you’re safe around me, alright?”

There was a very long stretch of silence, Nitrogear giving Roller a level look. Mulling over what Roller had just said, the corner of Nitrogear’s mouth twitched in thought. He had about as much reason to trust Roller as...well, as Roller had to to trust him. True, Roller hadn’t hurt him. And Primus knew that he had more than his fair share of opportunities. Like right now, for example…

“Promise?” Nitrogear finally asked, cautiously holding out his hand and trying to keep it from trembling.

“Promise,” Roller affirmed, grasping Nitrogear’s hand and shaking it carefully. His hand practically enveloped Nitrogear’s, but he was mindful of his grip.

Glancing down at Roller’s hand, then back up to him, Nitrogear grinned weakly and shook his head as he withdrew his hand.

“You’ve no idea what you’re getting yourself into trying to teach me anything about fighting.”

* * *

Whimpering loudly, Nitrogear shook his hand rapidly to try and get rid of the sting that was sending jolts of pain through his sensors. Leaning against the wall, Roller was working to try and keep a concerned expression while at the same time not laugh, as it sounded like Nitrogear’s fist had made a pretty hard impact against the makeshift chair. The metallic clang had echoed momentarily in the room, promptly followed by Nitrogear’s yelp and a few, loudly hissed curses.

“Are you...okay?” Roller asked slowly, still working to keep his expression neutral.

“No!” Nitrogear cried back, clutching his hand. He sighed heavily and glared at the chair, then looked up at Roller. “I give up. I can’t even hold my own against improvised furniture. I submit to spending the rest of my days as a weakling.”

“Come on, Nitro,” Roller groaned, though a grin was still playing on his features. “You just...swung a little too close to the back of the chair. Maybe try moving back a bit?”

“I will as soon as I can feel my hand again,” Nitrogear whined, still clutching at his hand.

“Sounds like you can feel it just fine,” Roller countered, grinning. “Maybe a bit more than just fine, judging by your reaction.”

“I’m so glad my pain humors you,” Nitrogear stated flatly, giving Roller a thoroughly unamused look. Cautiously, he released his hand and flexed it slowly, wincing as the joints resisted the movement.

“Are you always this dramatic? Or am I just an exception?”

“Me? Dramatic?” Nitrogear cried. “I’m in pain! Or...was in pain! Either way, I-”

A loud crash, followed by a panicked scream, cut Nitrogear off and he stopped and looked at the door. Standing up, Roller narrowed his optics and turned so that he was facing the door, to which Nitrogear was already slowly making his way towards.

“Nitro,” Roller cautioned. “I don’t think you need to-”

“That sounded like Blinker…”

“Blinker?”

“My...uh, dealer...and sort of friend.”

“You sure it was-”

There was another, closer, and far more pained scream, and Nitrogear stood up straight, staring at the door with wide optics. He held up a hand to Roller, motioning for him to stay put.

“That was definitely Blinker,” Nitrogear explained. “Look, just...stay here, okay? I just need to make sure he’s okay and not having a bad trip or something. I’ll be right back.”

“Wait, what?” Roller demanded, starting to follow Nitrogear. “That sounds like a fight and you know it. You’re going to get your stupid self hurt trying to play hero.”

“Hero nothing,” Nitrogear retorted quickly, opening the door. “I’ll be right back.”

Pausing only for a moment after the door shut, not really believing that the same ‘bot that had just been whimpering about cracking his hand against the back of a poorly rigged up chair was now running towards what could have very well been a knock down drag out fight, Roller gritted his dentae and quickly opened the door. There was no way in the Pit he was letting Nitrogear go charging in by himself.

Glancing both ways down the alleyway, he only briefly caught a glimpse of Nitrogear as he disappeared around a corner. Sighing, Roller gave pursuit, cursing Nitrogear’s speed under his breath. He could hear the sounds of the fight, as they were getting closer, but when he turned the corner, Roller felt his circuits go cold momentarily.

There was no sign of Nitrogear.

“Nitro?” he called, glancing around. “Nitrogear?!”

There was a louder yelp, to his right, and Roller turned, finding himself staring at a set of repurposed storage units. That seemed to be what this whole damn place was made of, and it made an effective maze. One that was promptly getting on Roller’s last nerve.

“Damn it, Nitro, where are you?” Roller hissed, choosing to go to the closest turn he could find.

* * *

Nitrogear had only been vaguely aware of Roller’s calls, and when he turned the third corner, he suddenly wished he’d answered. Coming to an abrupt halt, Nitrogear found himself looking at a very battered Blinker being held up by one of two larger ‘bots. Both were bigger than Blinker, and while one was maybe as tall as Nitrogear, there was no doubting that he was easily stronger. One had a grip on Blinker’s throat, while the other was watching with an amused smirk.

For the moment, their focus was on Blinker, who had a small streamlet of mech fluid dripping from one corner of his mouth, and his right elbow joint looked like it’d been partially crushed. Past that, Nitrogear couldn’t see anything through the ‘bot that was holding Blinker up by the throat.

“You do understand that this is strictly business, you know?” the ‘bot growled through a cruel grin. “You don’t have what we want, we find another means of compensation. It’s really simple business practice.”

Glancing over, Blinker’s gaze caught Nitrogear’s and he quickly shook his head, red optics wide. Freezing, Nitrogear tried to will himself to move. Whether out of sight or charge the ‘bot to get him to at least release Blinker, Nitrogear knew he had to move.

And yet his body absolutely refused.

Catching Blinker’s gaze, both ‘bots slowly looked over to where Nitrogear was standing. The second stood up and tilted his head to the side, looking somewhere between puzzled and amused at Nitrogear’s presence. Chuckling, he walked over to Nitrogear, who had already started to cringe back, quickly regretting having not moved. Clapping a hand down, hard, on Nitrogear’s shoulder, the ‘bot guided him towards where the other and Blinker were.

“This a friend of yours?” he asked, motioning to Blinker.

Stifling a gasp as he got closer, Nitrogear looked over the rest of Blinker’s injuries; a badly dented right knee which was leaking mech fluid, and his left pede looked like it’d been stomped on. Looking up at the first ‘bot, Nitrogear tried to force back any apprehension that he was feeling.

“Leave...leave him alone,” he stated, unable to keep his voice from trembling.

The two ‘bots looked between each other, chuckling at the statement. The second shook his head and patted, more like struck, Nitrogear’s shoulder roughly, knocking Nitrogear off balance in the process. Shaking his head and trying to urge Nitrogear to run, Blinker struggled against the first ‘bot’s grip in vain. It only served as an irritant, and the ‘bot struck Blinker across the face before shaking him roughly.

“Keep our new friend busy, would you? Me and Blinker have a few more things to discuss.”

“He-hey!” Nitrogear cried, trying to push past the second ‘bot. “Leave him alone! He-”

That was as far as Nitrogear got before the second ‘bot suddenly threw him up roughly against the wall, the back of his helm cracking against the metal. His pedes had only barely touched the ground when Nitrogear felt his lower jaw being gripped tightly under the grasp of the second ‘bot. His cry muffled, Nitrogear tried to kick his attacker away, but it only seemed to amuse the ‘bot more than anything.

“You’re just as hard of hearing as your friend there.” Reaching up, he grasped one of the handlebars on the side of Nitrogear’s helm. “Looks like these might be messing with your hearing. Let me fix that for you, huh?”

A few panicked gasps managed to tear themselves from Nitrogear as he redoubled his efforts to get free, feeling his helm start to creak as the ‘bot held his head still while pulling down on the handlebar slowly. Whimpering, Nitrogear grabbed the ‘bot’s arm, trying to wrench it free. Primus, his grip was borderline crushing.

The first few rivets of pain began to shoot through the side of Nitrogear’s helm, and he managed a strangled cry past the ‘bot’s hand. To his side, he could hear Blinker screaming in a mix of pain and terror as the first ‘bot landed a few, solid punches across his chassis. As much as he tried to struggle, Nitrogear found himself absolutely useless. His attacker overpowered him considerably, and there was a low groan as his helm threatened to buckle under the pressure.

“Worst idea you’ve had in a long time, buddy!”

He’d just barely heard Roller’s voice when Nitrogear saw Roller’s hand grab the side of the ‘bot’s neck, yanking him off Nitrogear and hurling him against the adjacent wall. The first ‘bot whirled around at the noise, but as Roller turned and stood up, optics narrowed, he paused. Watching as the first ‘bot sized up Roller, trying to figure out if the fight would be worth is, Nitrogear saw the second slowly getting back up.

“Roller, Roller!” Nitrogear wheezed, pointing at the second.

Turning, Roller saw the ‘bot that had been attacking Nitrogear charge him. Making a low scoff, Roller doubled up his fist and swung...hard. He felt something snap under the impact, the ‘bot making a pained scream as he was tossed to the side. Ignoring the jolts of pain that shot up through his arm and shoulder, Roller turned to the first mech, who was training a small blaster at him.

“Back off,” he hissed.

“If you think that’s going to be enough to stop me before I crush your head, you’re dumber than you look,” Roller growled, his voice dipping to a murderous tone. “Now then, we can stop this right now and you can let these two go, and I won’t have to show you what your insides look like. Or, you can be stupid and pull the trigger and make me even angrier than I already am.”

“Jeez, you talk a lot,” the ‘bot mocked with a derisive snort. He then pulled the trigger quickly, the blast striking against Roller’s shoulder and making him stagger back a couple steps.

“Roller!” Nitrogear cried, moving forward as though to check on him.

Nitrogear’s voice was about as far away as it could be, though, and Roller locked his gaze on his attacker. A guttural snarl pressing past his gritted dentae, Roller charged the ‘bot, grimly relishing the look of stark terror that crossed his expression before Roller grabbed his face.

With a short grunt of effort, Roller picked his attacker up off the ground, swinging him around and slamming his helm against the side of the alleyway wall. There was a short, pained cry that was quickly drown out by the sound of sparks and a metallic thud. Lifting him up higher against the wall, Roller scowled furiously at the ‘bot, who was weakly striking Roller’s forearm in an attempt to get free.

“You don’t listen,” Roller snarled. Something in the back of his mind seemed to close in on the panic that was racing through the ‘bot, the terrified look in his optics, and the frantic pulses of his spark… “Do you?”

A fresh look of pain, no, agony, flashed across the ‘bot’s expression and he made a pitiful mewl, his body going rigid for a second. Slowly intensifying his grip, Roller felt metal start to threaten to bend and give way under his grip.

“Roller! Stop!”

Nitrogear.

Turning, Roller looked over his shoulder at Nitrogear, who was cradling Blinker and giving him a look that was a mix of fear and pleading. Blinker looked utterly mortified, and was clinging to Nitrogear with his uninjured hand. Relaxing his grip, Roller let the ‘bot slide down the wall and collapse to the ground. Suppressing a wince as he stepped back, Roller motioned to the second ‘bot, who had, very wisely, stayed back.

“Get your friend and get out of here. Don’t let me catch you beating up either of these two ever again, got it?”

Though he only got a weak nod in response, Roller turned to Nitrogear and Blinker. Nitrogear had already helped Blinker to his feet, having slung Blinker’s arm around his shoulders. Looking up at Roller as he walked towards them, Blinker made a short, terrified whimper, but Nitrogear shook his head quickly.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. That’s...my friend,” he assured. “The one I told you about, remember?”

“That’s...your friend?” Blinker asked in disbelief as Nitrogear helped him limp down the alleyway. He looked back over at Roller, who was keeping an eye on the two attackers to make sure they didn’t do anything foolish. “Why didn’t you bring him with you!?”

“I didn’t want him to get hurt,” Nitrogear murmured as they rounded the corner. “Keep your voice down, too.”

“Hurt? Him?” Blinker queried, his voice dropping to a low hiss. “He looks like he could take a fusion cannon straight to the face and keep fighting. ...what happened to his face, anyways?”

“Look, I know you have all the manners of a used oil can, but could you please mind what few you do have?”

“Sorry,” Blinker mumbled, his gaze falling. He looked around, seeming confused. “Where are we going? This isn’t the way to my home.”

“Going to get you patched up, first,” Nitrogear replied. He could hear Roller’s footfalls behind them, and though he was trying to go as quickly as possible, Blinker could only limp so fast. “Then you can go home, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Blinker agreed, glancing over his shoulder. “He still staying with you, then?”

“Yeah. Going to have to take a look at his shoulder, too, once I’m done with you.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?” Nitrogear repeated, looking ahead. They still had a ways to go, but fortunately, it wasn’t too much farther.

“That guy tried to break off part of your helm,” Blinker commented. “Didn’t that hurt?”

“A bit, but I’ll be okay.”

Frowning with a sigh, Blinker fell silent, making soft groans as he forced himself to keep limping.

“Is he going to be okay?” Roller asked from behind them.

“Think so,” Nitrogear replied. He looked over his shoulder at Roller, frowning at the scorch mark and small wound the blaster had left. “How’s your shoulder?”

“It’ll be fine,” Roller answered, rolling his injured shoulder slowly. “Let’s just get your friend fixed up, first.”

“Yeah,” Nitrogear murmured. “Come on, Blinker. Almost there.”

 


	4. Blinked Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having been saved from an alleyway scuffle by Roller, Nitrogear and Blinker now work to recuperate from their injuries.

Blinker’s quiet moan made Roller lift his gaze up from where he had been staring blankly at the floor. The mech was laid out on the recharge slab, and Nitrogear was working as diligently as he could, but there was no denying that some of the injuries weren’t ones that the meager supplies in the repair kit could heal. His gaze going from Blinker, who was wincing up at the ceiling, down to Nitrogear, Roller studied the ‘bot’s helm closely. After a few moments, Roller sighed inwardly. The part that Nitrogear’s attacker had grabbed and pulled on was slightly askew.

“How’s he doing?” Roller inquired, keeping his voice down.

Pausing, Nitrogear looked over at Blinker, who just nodded and shuttered off his optics for the moment. Standing up, Nitrogear stepped over to Roller, concern crossing his expression as he looked up.

“Not good. They beat him up pretty good. I can’t bend his pede back to the way it was, and he’s maimed as long as it stays messed up the way it is. His elbow is dislocated, but I may be able to wrench that back into place. I can patch up the minor injuries, but...there’s only so much I can do.”

“You mentioned a medic around here?”

“Yeah, but I can’t carry Blinker there. And the medic doesn’t really make house calls.”

“I could carry him. He can’t be that heavy.”

Stopping, Nitrogear stared at Roller for a long moment. He then motioned to Roller’s injured shoulder.

“What about your shoulder? You sure?”

“I could probably carry him with one arm, Nitro. Slag it, if we’re going to be perfectly honest, I could probably carry the both of you with one arm. So I don’t think there would be a problem.”

Frowning, Nitrogear looked over at Blinker, then back at Roller.

“Let me ask him, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” Nitrogear turned back to Blinker, but, on a spur of the moment though, Roller reached down and lightly grasped Nitrogear’s shoulder. “Hey, hold up.”

Starting slightly, but obliging nonetheless, Nitrogear turned back partly to Roller, giving him an inquisitive look.

“What about your helm?” Roller asked.

“My...helm?”

“Yeah. I saw what that guy did to you. Looks like he managed to pull something out of place a little.”

“Oh, um…” Nitrogear quickly began patting along the crooked extension on his helm, looking embarrassed and wincing. “I can...uh, maybe get a hammer or something.”

“A hammer?” Roller groaned. “Give me a break, Nitro. Look, does it still hurt?”

“A little, yeah.”

“How bad is a little?”

“Why?”

“I could probably push it back into place. Doesn’t look too bad. Just don’t want it getting caught on something and getting worse, or being a sore spot for the rest of your life.”

Though he remained completely silent, there was no mistaking the alarm that shot through Nitrogear as his optics widened and he leaned back slightly. Noting the reaction, Roller shook his head and sighed.

“Nevermind. Forget that I even asked.”

“No. It’s...I mean...well, you’ll be careful, right?”

Looking back at Nitrogear with a mix of frustration and aggravation, Roller crossed his arms.

“Nope. Going to punt your scrawny body across the room and hope that the impact knocks it back into place.”

Surprisingly, Nitrogear didn’t shrink back. Instead, he gave Roller a just as irritated look, though there was the faintest ghost of a grin that flicked across features.

“Then I’m going to decline,” Nitrogear snipped back. “I’ve been airborne once and it was no fun. I’m not a flyer, never will be, nor do I want to be.”

Chuckling, Roller nodded and held up his hands.

“I’ll be careful. And I’m just offering. If you want to wait until we get to the medic, that’s fine.”

“No, that...the less I have to pay him, the better.”

Stopping, Roller eyed Nitrogear in surprise.

“You’re paying for Blinker’s medical bills?”

“Bartering system, remember? I may be able to get some free circuit speeders out of the deal.”

“You’re a regular philanthropist around this place, aren’t you?”

“Hardly,” Nitrogear answered with a laugh. He then glanced back over at Blinker, who was lying still, optics still shuttered off. “So...um…”

“Alright. Hold really still.”

The moment his hand grasped the side of Nitrogear’s helm, Roller felt the mech go absolutely rigid. Eyeing Nitrogear as levelly as he could, Roller then gripped the crooked piece of Nitrogear’s helm firmly. Reflexively, Nitrogear grabbed Roller’s wrist, and the larger ‘bot stopped.

“That hurt?”

“No. ...well, maybe a little.”

“Right. Just let me know if it’s too much and I’ll stop. Doesn’t look like it’ll be too hard to get it back to the way it was.”

Gritting his dentae and resisting the very real urge to cringe away, Nitrogear clutched at Roller’s wrist as the mech began to slowly bend the helm back into place. Stifling a whine as he felt the metal creak and groan as it was slowly forced back into place, Nitrogear gripped tightly at Roller’s wrist, but his gaze was solely on Roller’s face. The mech was focusing intently on the task at hand, optics narrowed, and it was then that Nitrogear noticed the scarring was beginning to show the first signs of healing, but they were deep. Most likely, even with the best of medics available, they would be permanent.

“Almost got it, Nitro. You still doing okay?”

“Uh-huh,” Nitrogear answered, having to stop himself from nodding his head. There was a growing ache in his head from having stood so stoic still for such a long time coupled with the pressure that Roller was unintentionally putting on his head, but Nitrogear kept quiet. Just a few more seconds…

“Got it,” Roller announced, releasing his grip on both the helm and the side of Nitrogear’s face.

Taking a small step back, Nitrogear rolled his head carefully, feeling the ache start to subside. It was going to be sore for a while, but at least it didn’t feel like something was out of place. He grinned up at Roller, who gave him a half-hearted smile in return.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. I figure if you’re willing to yank shrapnel out of my head and not kick me out for drinking half the Kremzeek, then the least I can do is get your helm straightened out.”

“Eh, the Kremzeek-”

“Did he try to break your head?”

Blinker’s voice made Nitrogear turn around, and he gave Blinker an exasperated look with a sigh.

“No, Blinker, he wasn’t breaking my head. He was undoing the damage that one guy did to it.” Walking back over to Blinker’s side, Nitrogear looked over the remaining injuries with a frown. “How are you feeling?”

“Still hurts,” Blinker murmured shakily.

“Yeah, it’s going to unless we can get you to a medic.”

“How am I supposed to get there?” Blinker cried, lifting his head. “I can’t put any weight on my left side and there’s no way you can carry me the whole way!”

“Shh, stop yelling,” Nitrogear chided. He glanced over at his shoulder briefly at Roller, who was nursing a box of Kremzeek and watching the both of them. Looking back at Blinker, who was giving him a pleading stare, Nitrogear motioned to Roller. “He can carry you, though.”

“Him!?”

“Shh!”

“Sorry, but...you think he will carry me the whole way there?” Blinker asked, his voice strained to a low whisper.

“He offered to,” Nitrogear countered.

That was enough to make Blinker stop, at least for the moment, and he looked over at Roller, who just nodded shortly, before back to Nitrogear. A worried look crossed Blinker’s features, and he leaned close to Nitrogear.

“What if he tries to kidnap me?”

Speechless, Nitrogear stared at Blinker, struggling to find any words to form an answer. Though he mouthed a few words, Nitrogear made no sound before finally turning to look at Roller. Favoring him with a puzzled look, Roller studied Nitrogear’s flabberghasted expression, still slowly nursing at the Kremzeek.

“Something the matter?”

“He...you…”

“Nitro?”

Not waiting for Nitrogear to speak for him, Blinker sat up as much as he could, wincing visibly with the action, but succeeding, nonetheless. He pointed at Roller, who frowned in response.

“You’re not going to try and kidnap me or anything, right?”

Almost dropping the box of Kremzeek in disbelief, Roller stared at Blinker for a long moment, the smaller ‘bot eyeing him narrowly. Finally, Roller managed to turn his gaze to Nitrogear, who was looking at him and struggling not to burst into laughter.

“Is he...serious?”

“Of course I am!” Blinker interjected, sounding borderline outraged. “I can’t take the risk of getting kidnapped.”

“Blinker, you really need to ease up off the circuit speeders, you know?” Nitrogear advised slowly.

“No, no,” Blinker replied, shaking his head. “They keep me awake.”

“That may be part of your problem,” Nitrogear continued. “You ever think about just, oh, I don’t know, recharging?”

“By myself!?”

Taking a long swig of the Kremzeek to try and get his composure back, Roller eyed the two as Nitrogear continued to try and calm Blinker down. Primus, the guy must be taking circuit speeders every other hour of the day the way he was acting. ...and he thought Nitrogear was jumpy.

* * *

Making angry, stabbing gestures at the datapad, Mindsweep groaned and leaned back in his chair, listening to it squeak in response. Kicking his pedes quickly, the green and black mech shuttered his red optics and made another, far more dramatic sounding groan.

“I have never been this bored in my life!” he cried, holding up both hands towards the ceiling. He rolled his head over and looked at the silver and violet color schemed medic ‘bot that was sitting at the end of the table. “Flatline...give me something to do.”

“Certainly,” came the clipped reply. “Be quiet.”

Frowning, Mindsweep held up his thumb and index digit close to his optic, holding them so it looked like he had Flatline’s head right between them. Quickly making a pinching gesture, Mindsweep grinned and laughed quietly at the idea of actually being able to do so.

The sound of Mindsweep’s laughter made Flatline’s violet optics flick up, his unwavering, slightly unnerving, gaze fixated on the smaller mech. It took Mindsweep a few moments to notice that he was being scowled at, but when he did, he made a short huff and sat back up in his seat. Turning his attention back to the datapad, Mindsweep drew invisible circles on its surface, uncomfortably aware that Flatline was still silently glaring at him.

“Stop that,” Mindsweep finally said, though his gaze was on the wall across from him, not the medic.

Though there was only silence in response, Mindsweep could still feel Flatline’s optics boring holes into him.

“Cut that out!” Mindsweep yelled, hitting the table with his hand as he turned to finally look at the medic.

For a few seconds, Flatline continued to favor Mindsweep with his scowl, then, without a word, turned his attention back to what he had been reading. Looking quite cross at how quickly the medic had gone back to what he had been doing previously, Mindsweep slouched in the chair.

“I’m still bored, though.”

No response.

“Is there anything else to do?”

Sighing quietly, Flatline looked back up from the datapad at Mindsweep, who was fidgeting in his seat. The medic regarded the smaller mech with tired disdain before setting down the datapad he had been reading and sliding it over to Mindsweep. Snatching the datapad up, Mindsweep scanned over it quickly before looking back at Flatline.

“What am I looking for?”

“Anything that stands out. I, personally, am rather impressed.”

“Wow,” Mindsweep drawled. “And we all know how easily impressed you are. I mean, the last thing that left an impression on you was that blaster that one guy hurled at you.”

Flatline’s optics narrowed to furious slits, and he clenched his fists slowly.

“Read the Primus-be-damned datapad,” he hissed through tightly gritted dentae.

“Okay, okay...relax, already.”

Forcing himself to focus, Mindsweep read over the datapad, but kept Flatline in his peripheral vision. He’d overestimated how much of Flatline’s patience was left, and having the medic mad at him was something that Mindsweep would just as soon have avoided.

Frowning, Mindsweep looked up at Flatline, who appeared to have calmed down a little, and shrugged.

“Guy looks talented, but...I’m not seeing anything that really stands out.”

“Reread vital stats.”

Doing so, Mindsweep hummed to himself before his optics widened and he looked up at Flatline.

“An outlier?”

Flatline nodded.

“They actually had the guts to take the risk of applying and mention that?”

“Apparently so.”

“Damn, guy is either really good or really dumb...or both.” Mindsweep looked back down at the datapad. “Did you tell Dreadnought about him already?”

“Not yet. We have a couple more applicants to look through.”

“Yeah, but it kind of sounds like you’ve made up your mind already.”

“Perhaps, but I will not make a final decision until we’ve looked through every application.”

* * *

The “waiting room” of the medic’s residence was a square, fenced in, outside yard, a broken barrel with evidence of burned contents inside it sitting in the middle of it. Staring blankly at the barrel, Roller only averted his attention when he heard footfalls behind him. Turning, he saw Nitrogear as the smaller mech walked up to his side.

“Well?”

“Doctor says he’ll make a full recovery. He just needs to be careful and not put too much stress on his injuries for a while.” Laughing somewhat bitterly, Nitrogear shook his head. “Considering all he does is lay around and try to sleep off the crash from a circuit speeder, it shouldn’t be too hard for him to do that.”

“Yeah...here’s hoping, at least.”

There was a small pause, then Nitrogear looked up at Roller.

“Thanks, again...for carrying him over here.”

“I still can’t believe he thought I was going to kidnap him,” Roller grumbled. “What the hell did he think I’d want to kidnap him for? Circuit speeders? I can’t get circuit speeders unless I take him back to his home, which sort of defeats the whole idea of kidnapping. And no offense, Nitro, but if I had to be stuck in a room with your buddy Blinker, it would take everything I have not to throttle him.”

Laughing again, this time with no negativity, Nitrogear nodded knowingly and shrugged.

“I know, I know. He’s...he’s a weird guy, no doubt, but he’s one of the few that helped me when I first got left here.” A somber look crossed Nitrogear’s expression and his laughter faded. “...he’s also one of the few that is still around.”

Frowning faintly in concern, Roller looked down at Nitrogear, who was staring somewhat defeatedly at the barrel. Shifting his weight, Roller patted Nitrogear lightly on the shoulder, mindful not to knock the smaller mech off balance.

“Sorry. It’s tough to lose people, especially if they’ve helped you out of rough spots.”

“Yeah.” Nitrogear absentmindedly kicked aside a small piece of scrap metal. “And some of them I didn’t even get to return the favor.”

“I doubt they thought it was a favor you needed to return,” Roller countered.

“I guess so… Just...still kind of gnaws at the back of my mind, you know?”

“Yeah, I do,” Roller replied with a heavy sigh, his hand sliding off Nitrogear’s shoulder. “More than I’d really like to, I know what you’re talking about.”

Staring at the barrel for a few minutes longer, Nitrogear looked up at the darkening sky and shifted his weight nervously. Glancing over his shoulder back to the doorway, he frowned and made a slightly nervous sound.

“Hope he doesn’t need to take too much longer. It’s going to be dark before I’m able to actually leave.”

“What? You’re going to leave me here?” Roller queried, sounding half concerned, but half amused.

“Huh? No, no! I was going to say you should probably head back before it gets too late and-”

“And leave your scrawny self all alone to get home? Not going to happen, Nitro. I’m staying with you until you’re ready to leave.”

Stopping, Nitrogear looked up at Roller, his initial disbelief giving way to a small smile.

“Thanks, Roller.”

“Nothing to thank me for. Besides, you might come home missing parts of your helm and I don’t have half the medical know-how you do. I’d be just as liable to put them on backwards as I would be to fix them.”

Laughing, Nitrogear shook his head before gingerly touching the side of his helm that had been damaged in the scuffle. It was nowhere near as sore as it had initially been, and after seeing his reflection, it looked like Roller had done a good job in getting the helm piece back into place.

Before Nitrogear could reply, the door to the medic’s place slid open and the mech walked out, looking a little confused.

“Blinker just left in...quite a hurry. Said it was getting too dark and that...you were going to pay the bill again?”

Sighing and shaking his head, but a grin on his features, Nitrogear walked over to the medic.

“Yeah, that I am. So everything checked out okay?”

“Yes. As I mentioned, so long as Blinker doesn’t stress his injuries too much, he should be fine and make a full recovery. He does need to stay out of fights, however.”

“Yeah, we all do,” Nitrogear replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright...how much is it? Me and my friend need to get home.”

Looking past Nitrogear at Roller, the medic shrugged and turned his attention back to Nitrogear.

“Well, at least you have quite the imposing escort,” he murmured.

* * *

As Nitrogear had feared, the sky was dark, save for the glimmer of stars, by the time they had left the medic’s. It took everything he had not to break out into a mad sprint towards his home, but he knew that Roller wouldn’t be able to keep up. Even so, his pace was quickened and every noise made Nitrogear either start, snap his gaze in the direction of the sound, or a mix of both.

Working to keep up with Nitrogear, Roller mentally shook his head as he watched the paranoia take hold and refuse to let go in the smaller ‘bot. No wonder Nitrogear was a target...he practically made himself one if this was the way he acted. Then again, being that small probably didn’t help, either. And after having seen Nitrogear’s fighting prowess, or rather, lack thereof, Roller reminded himself to be patient.

“Nitro,” he called. “Slow down. I’m not as fast as you, remember?”

Making a short noise of discontent, but slowing his pace nonetheless, Nitrogear turned partially and looked up at Roller apologetically.

“Sorry. I really don’t like being out here when it’s dark. I’ll...I’ll try to slow down.”

“I don’t mind going a little faster, but your double pace is about a quadruple pace for me,” Roller pointed out. A sound of something crashing, though far off, made him glance over his shoulder, optics narrowed. “Besides, anything that’s stupid enough to try and mess with you is going to have to deal with me. And I can promise they’ll stay online just long enough to regret it.”

Making a nervous chuckle, still walking a little faster, Nitrogear led them down the alleyway and then turned a corner to the street that they’d had to pick their way down earlier that day. His pace doubled, Roller turned the corner...and ran right into Nitrogear.

The smaller mech made a stifled noise of surprise and stumbled forward, but Roller managed to grab Nitrogear’s shoulder before the ‘bot hit the ground. Reflexively clutching at Roller’s wrist and forearm, Nitrogear steadied himself and stood up, but his gaze remained forward the entire time.

“Nitro, you’ve got cut this whole, stop the moment you turn a corner stuff out before I accidentally flatten you,” Roller advised with a short laugh. When Nitrogear didn’t answer, Roller followed the mech’s gaze and saw the reason that Nitrogear had stopped.

Make that two reasons. Two very familiar, damaged reasons...that apparently had two other friends. It was the same two that had attacked Blinker and Nitrogear earlier, and they were still sporting the injuries that Roller had inflicted. For now, their attention appeared to be focused on the conversation they were having with their other two compatriots. Though they were milling around the entrance to a shop of some sort, they were also just one building away from the alleyway entrance that Nitrogear and Roller needed to go down.

“Roller...we have to go that way,” Nitrogear whispered hoarsely. “There isn’t another way around.”

“Alright, then walk normally,” Roller murmured in response, helping Nitrogear stand. “And no matter what you do, make sure you keep me between you and them. The moment we’re past them, get in front of me. Got it?”

“That’s not really fair to you.”

“Sure as hell wouldn’t be fair if I put you between them and me. Besides, that’s just begging for a fight. Come on, don’t have time to argue this. Just go.”

Though he made a muted whine, Nitrogear did as he was told, keeping pace with Roller so as to keep the larger ‘bot on his right. They weren’t noticed up until they stepped out into the dim glow of an overhead streetlight, but when they were, there was no doubting that the conversation the four were having quickly changed subjects.

“Keep walking,” Roller quietly coaxed, noticing the small hiccup in Nitrogear’s pace.

Mentally cursing the fact that the vision in his left optic was still having problems focusing, Roller let his gaze inconspicuously  flick over the four mechs. All about the same height, and presumably along the same levels of physical strength, Roller figured that he could take the four in an all out brawl. However, that would leave Nitrogear unguarded, and all it would take would be for one of the four to engage the smaller ‘bot and it’d be all over.

The conversation died down as they neared the four, and Nitrogear forced himself to focus on the alleyway entrance. He couldn’t even keep an eye on the four out of the corner of his optic, as Roller’s massive frame obscured them from his vision. Probably for the better, anyways. Nitrogear could only imagine how panicked he must have looked by this point, and he didn’t need those four noticing.

Grateful that they were on his right, Roller kept his pace with Nitrogear, making sure to keep the four in his peripheral vision. They weren’t moving, for now, and seemed to be content with mutely glaring at them for now. Fine. Certainly didn’t affect Roller at all, and so long as they didn’t try anything stupid, they could all go home in one piece.

The moment he crossed the threshold into the alleyway, Nitrogear darted ahead so that he was in front of Roller. Roller’s shadow practically engulfed him, but, as much as Nitrogear hated to admit it, he felt safer having the larger mech at his back. Just a little bit further and they’d be able to-

“Hey!”

Freezing in mid-step, yellow optics going wide, Nitrogear turned slowly. Roller, however, had already pivoted quickly, optics narrowing as one of the other, uninjured ‘bots came into view. Straightening his posture, Roller looked over the mech slowly, calmly clenching and then unclenching his hands.

“Need something?” Roller asked.

“I…” The ‘bot looked over Roller about twice, his gaze only flicking to the side when Nitrogear peeked out from around Roller. The moment he was spotted, though, Nitrogear quickly ducked back. “I...thought you were somebody else. My bad.”

Waiting until the mech had presumably scurried back to his compatriots, Roller looked over at Nitrogear momentarily. Hugging himself loosely and looking notably more panicked than he had initially been, Nitrogear was staring blankly at a wall and cutting a...well, a rather pathetic figure.

“Come on, Nitro,” Roller stated, stepping forward and lightly pushing on Nitrogear’s shoulder. “Keep going. They’re not going to be harassing us.”

“How do you know?” Nitrogear asked, voice housing the faintest hint of a tremble.

“Guy was sizing me up,” Roller replied, looking over his shoulder to ensure that the mech didn’t return to continue their conversation. Or turn it into an argument. “Trying to figure out if it’d be worth their trouble to start a fight.”

“He saw me…” Nitrogear’s voice was barely above a squeak.

“No, he saw you with me. Big difference, buddy.”

“Yeah...thanks.”

Though every sense he had was practically screaming for Nitrogear to sprint the rest of the way home, he knew Roller couldn’t keep up. Besides, he was undoubtedly safer with Roller than he would be trying to make a break for it. Not to mention, he couldn’t just...leave Roller out here. That just wasn’t an option.

Finally, though, they made it back to Nitrogear’s home, and he quickly jabbed into the numerical code to unlock the door. A small spray of sparks flying into the air as the lights clacked on, Nitrogear darted inside, Roller following. The moment the door slid shut behind them, Nitrogear groaned audibly and fell back into the chair. Staring up at the ceiling, he tried to calm his frazzled nerves, though his digits quickly drummed against the arms of the chair.

Stepping into view and looking down at Nitrogear, Roller gave the smaller ‘bot a half grin and short chuckle.

“You going to make it?”

“No,” Nitrogear answered, purposefully making his voice hoarse. “It’s going dark. I leave you all my worldly possessions. All...five of them. I think you’re getting the short end of the deal, but...it’s too late for me.”

“Huh, I don’t even have to turn the monitor on to get a drama show tonight.”

“Cruel words for a dying ‘bot…”

“Yeah, well, is said dying ‘bot hungry? Looks like there’s a bit leftover from what you gathered up in the supply crate.”

“And...my recovery is amazing. I’m starving,” Nitrogear stated quickly, hopping up from the chair.

“It’s a miracle,” Roller commented as he watched Nitrogear dart over and fish out the remainder of the foods from the supply crate. Sitting down on the edge of the recharge slab, he watched the smaller ‘bot for a moment before speaking again. “Hey, Nitro?”

“Yeah?”

“Any chance I could get you to take a look at the damage on the left side of my face again?”

“Sure.” Both hands full of the foods, Nitrogear walked over and offered one hand to Roller. He tilted his head to the side slightly in concern. “Is it hurting you or something?”

“Not really. Still about as sore as I was yesterday. Just...wondering if it looks like it’s healing up any more or if this is they way it is.”

Chewing on a mouthful of food, Nitrogear frowned and walked up to Roller, studying the injuries for a brief moment before nodding.

“Sure, I can take a look. I’m not sure if I can do much else for it, though.” Snorting quietly, Nitrogear looked away. “Damn, should have asked the medic about that when we were there.”

“Nah, don’t worry about that. Would have just given him something else to tack onto the bill,” Roller argued before popping one of the food pieces into his mouth. “Biggest concern is whether or not my left optic is ever going to clear up completely.”

“It’s still blurry?” Nitrogear asked, looking up with a worried expression.

“A bit. Seems like it’s still trying to repair itself, but it’s really slow going. Maybe it just needs a little more time and I’m just getting impatient.”

“Can’t say I blame you, though,” Nitrogear replied as he leaned against the back of the chair. “I’d be panicking if my optic was on the fritz. Of course, I panic over just about anything, it seems.”

“Yeah, about that. You ever try just...faking confidence? May not work all the time, but might help keep you from getting picked on all the time.”

“And what about the times it doesn’t work?”

“That would be when I suggest to run.”

“My fighting skills that impressive, huh?” Nitrogear queried with a grin and past a mouthful of food.

“They, uh, could use a little bit of work.” Roller then shrugged and motioned to the chair. “However, if there’s ever an invasion of overly aggressive furniture, you may be able to hold your own for a little while.”

His expression promptly going deadpan, Nitrogear gave Roller a narrow-opticed look before huffing and turning his gaze away. Chuckling, Roller finished off the last bits of the food and reached up to carefully run his digit tips across the scarring on his face. Noticing the action, Nitrogear quickly finished off the food he had in his hand before walking over.

“Here,” he offered softly. “Let me see…”

Leaning forward, not even thinking twice when Nitrogear lightly set a hand on the right side of his face to keep him steady, Roller let his gaze focus on Nitrogear’s face this time as the smaller ‘bot carefully traced the outline of the scarring on Roller’s face. Watching Nitrogear’s tawny optics flick back and forth quickly, his mouth the slightest bit open as he made a slow, ‘tut’ noise, Roller wondered how many times Nitrogear had done something similar for another mech.

...and how many times it had backfired on him.

There was a sudden flare of pain and Roller snarled, jerking back reflexively as his left optic shuttered off. Promptly withdrawing both of his hands and holding them over his mouth, looking absolutely mollified, Nitrogear stepped back slightly.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t-Primus, I’m sorry!”

Clutching at the left side of his face, grimacing and trying to fight back the stabs of agony that seemed to be hammering at the side of his head, Roller used his free hand to wave dismissively at Nitrogear. His voice was failing him for the moment, but the action still seemed to calm Nitrogear down a little.

Hand trembling as he made a series of low, hoarse groans past his dentae, Roller slowly dared to shutter back on his left optic. It struggled to focus, but, surprisingly enough, it seemed to be able to retain most of the clarity it had had previously. Though he could only see Nitrogear hop nervously from one pede to the other, Roller was able to hear the nervous whimper that the ‘bot made.

“I didn’t put any extra pressure,” Nitrogear stated slowly.

“I know,” Roller finally managed to grumble, trying to keep his tone as neutral as he could through the last throbs of pain. “Do you remember what you touched?”

“I’m not going to touch that spot again!”

“Don’t want you to,” Roller replied tersely. Looking up, feeling almost guilty as to how mortified Nitrogear still appeared, he managed a pained grin before nodding his head carefully. “Just want to know what spot is that sensitive. I get hit there and I’m going to be in a lot of misery.”

Not looking entirely convinced, Nitrogear slowly stepped forward and held up a trembling hand, his index digit tracing an invisible path from where it had been moments before. Finally, he paused and then pointed to right underneath his own, left optic.

“Right there. That’s...that’s where it was.”

“Huh...alright. And there’s no shrapnel or anything still jammed in there?”

“I don’t think so.”

Sighing and shaking his head, Roller tapped on the left side of his helm.

“Go on and take a look.”

“But...what if I hurt you again?” Nitrogear murmured, unconsciously closing his hands.

“Are you going to do it on purpose?” Roller countered, giving Nitrogear a level look.

“Well, no, of course not, but-”

“Then get over here and take a look. Can’t be mad at you for accidentally finding a sore spot if you’re just trying to help.”

Not looking entirely convinced, but obliging nonetheless, Nitrogear stepped forward and leaned up, optics narrowing as he studied the injury as closely as he could. He set his hand, which was still faintly shaking, on the right side of Roller’s face. Pressing his digit tips against Roller’s jawline, Nitrogear guided Roller to tilt his head to the side by a few degrees. Frowning, Nitrogear looked a little closer. It looked as though there was either something still wedged deep into the injury, or that the injury itself was so deep that it hadn’t had time to fully heal.

“Nitro?”

“I...I can’t tell,” Nitrogear finally murmured, sounding a little defeated. “It looks like it’s just a really deep injury, but there’s the chance there may be something still in there.”

Falling quiet for a few moments, Roller lifted his gaze back to Nitrogear’s.

“Any chance you can carefully run something across there and see if it catches?”

“I...could, but that’s going to hurt like hell.” Stepping back, Nitrogear shrugged offhandedly. “It may be easier to wait when you’re recharging and knocked out.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Look, if you want, I can try that when you’re recharging. You can even drink two of those vials to make sure you’re knocked out real good.”

“Two of them?” Roller repeated, looking none too excited about the prospect of having to down the foul tasting liquid twice. “I don’t know if the pain was _that_ bad.”

“It’d help make sure you don’t jolt awake on me,” Nitrogear countered, though his expression was apologetic. “We could try mixing it with Kremzeek if you think that’d help.”

“No way,” Roller said with a shake of his head. “Don’t waste good Kremzeek on that...liquid garbage. I’ll just down the stuff quick and get it over with.”

Nodding, Nitrogear glanced over at the supply crate, mentally reminding himself he’d have to go out soon again to get more supplies. It was always a bit of a strain when he had a guest to keep up with the demand of basic necessities, but it came with the territory.

“Hey, Nitro?”

“Yeah?” he answered, looking back at Roller.

“When was the last time you actually got a full recharge cycle in?” Roller inquired, sitting up straight and looking over the small ‘bot. “It’s been a couple days and the only time I’ve seen you get any sort of rest was when you were just dozing against the wall. Even then, I can’t imagine it was anything really beneficial.”

“Oh, uh...I...I don’t sleep very well or very much,” Nitrogear answered slowly with a quick shrug. He glanced away momentarily, then back to Roller. “I guess it’s just kind of difficult since I feel like I might wake up somewhere else. Somewhere...not pleasant.”

“That ever happen before?”

“No, just...another one of my many, many fears,” Nitrogear replied, hanging his head a little.

Sighing, Roller stood up from the recharge slab and motioned to it with a quick jerk of his head.

“Look, how about you try and get at least some sleep? Personally, I’d feel a little better if you’re somewhat charged up before you go poking and prodding at any of these injuries.” Roller looked over Nitrogear, who was giving him a unconvinced, slightly worried, look. “Besides, I can almost guarantee you need it after the couple of days you’ve had.”

“Yeah, but...what if somebody tries to break in?” Nitrogear countered weakly, looking over at the door.

“You think I’m going to just stand by and let somebody break in and cart you off?” Roller asked, sounding somewhat insulted by the insinuation.

“Well, no...I guess not.”

“Look, anybody stupid enough to force their way through that door is going to find out what it’s like to get drop-kicked down an alleyway after I’ve knocked their optics out. Unless they’re touting a blaster that can tear through a ship, I think we’ll be okay.”

Looking between the door, Roller, and then the recharge slab, Nitrogear finally sighed and nodded his head.

“Alright, I’ll give it a shot,” he murmured, walking over and clambering up onto the recharge slab. “Just...wake me up if anything happens, okay?”

“You got it,” Roller replied, waiting until Nitrogear had lay down before clicking on the controls. He looked back to Nitrogear, who was looking worriedly at the ceiling. “Nitro...relax. It’ll be alright.”

Sighing, Nitrogear nodded before he shuttered off his optics, doing his best to relax and rest against the slab. After a few moments, he went still, his expression a little more relaxed. Satisfied that it appeared Nitrogear was finally getting some sleep, Roller walked over and clicked on the monitor, mindful of the volume. Maybe he could catch the next episode of the show he and Nitrogear had caught a couple nights ago.


	5. Unanswerable Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Nitrogear continues to help aid Roller's mental and physical recovery, Mindsweep and Flatline take their findings to their commander.

The low whine of the static was almost as loud as the actual audio from the channel, but Roller didn’t turn the volume up any further. As once he’d settled down, Nitrogear hadn’t moved or even uttered so much as a single murmur, and Roller wasn’t exactly keen on the idea of Nitrogear waking up in a panic because the monitor was too loud. Of course, there was a part of Roller that believed even the low monitor noise was liable to wake Nitrogear up in a panic.

Leaning forward in an attempt to hear a little better, Roller rested his elbows on his knees, his hand once again absently running across the damage that marred the left side of his face. His index digit rested on the spot that Nitrogear had motioned to earlier, the tip very slowly sliding down into the injury, trying to gauge how far it went. It seemed like it bored into his face before the tip finally hit the spot that sent fresh, new, warning waves of pain radiating from the spot.

Gritting his dentae, determined to remain silent, but also just as determined to ensure this was still pain he could handle and that it wouldn’t leave him with a crippling vulnerability, Roller pressed against the wound. The waves of pain quickly flared up into sharp stabs, his left optic’s focus blurring in response. His right hand clutched at the arm of the chair, whatever was playing on the monitor long forgotten, and Roller forced back a groan of misery as he kept the pressure there until he could think past it.

The moment he could...he applied more pressure.

The sudden jolt of pain that caused his optics to shutter off almost wrenched a rough cry from Roller, but he managed to stifle it to a short, coughing noise. Freezing and staring straight ahead, holding the pressure, gripping the chair arm tightly, Roller listened for any signs that Nitrogear may have been stirred from his recharge cycle.

When there was nothing, Roller set his jaw, hearing his dentae creak in response, and pressed harder against the injury. His entire frame shuddered in response to the flaring pain, trying to process and handle the continual agony. However, Roller grimly noted that no matter how much pressure he applied, the pain, though staggering, didn’t increase. Also, the vision in his left optic was so poor he might as well have been blind, but his right optic was still maintaining optimal clarity.

Quietly hissing a long sigh, Roller let his now trembling hand fall from his face. He was vaguely aware of what felt like a fresh rivulet of mech fluid starting to well up at the injury, but he could deal with that later. Right now he just wanted one of those damn circuit speeders in a box of Kremzeek.

Sitting up and looking over at the supply crate, having to once again grip at the arm of the chair as his vision spun dizzyingly, Roller refocused and stood up. Trying to be mindful of his footfalls for Nitrogear’s sake, he managed two steps towards the shelf the crate was on before it felt like the entire ground gave way underneath him.

Collapsing to his knee, barely catching himself with his hands, Roller stifled a pained groan, but the sound of him falling and hitting the floor was loud enough. Nitrogear shot up with a start, optics flickering as they fought to focus quickly.

“Door! Shut the door!” he yelled, looking around quickly. The moment he saw Roller, though, he quickly scrambled off the recharge slab, staggering as he fought to gain his sense of balance, but making it promptly to Roller’s side. “Roller? Roller!?”

Every sensor seemed to be hammered with a fresh thrumming of agony, and Roller lurched forward slightly as his balance suddenly swerved sickeningly. The left side of his face was practically screaming in pain, working all the way down through his neck, shoulder, and side. Where Nitrogear had sealed the wounds now throbbed in pace with the pulses of agony shooting down from the left side of his face. Roller could hear Nitrogear asking him something, but the smaller ‘bot’s voice only echoed painfully in his head to the point it was unintelligible, verbal torture.

“Nitro…,” Roller hissed, trying to move.

“Roller! What’s wrong?” Nitrogear queried in a frenzied panic as he tried to inspect Roller for any new injuries. He could see a few droplets of mech fluid patter onto the floor, but Roller was hunched over in such a way it made the task borderline impossible. “Roller!”

“...just...please…”

“Please what? Roller, talk to me!”

The final, frantic exclamation from Nitrogear seemed to drive straight through Roller’s head, new charges of agony shooting through him and drawing up a previously untapped burst of desperate strength. Just anything to stop the pain...

“Shut up, already!” Roller thundered, grabbing Nitrogear’s arm.

Making a panicked scream, Nitrogear tried to jump back, but Roller’s grip threw him off balance and he fell down. Staring up in terror at Roller, Nitrogear tried to flinch back as much as he could. Optics widening as horrified realization cut through whatever pain was still wracking his frame, Roller promptly released Nitrogear’s arm. The smaller ‘bot scooted back a few steps, but no more, his terrified gaze never leaving Roller.

Coughing in a mix of pain and disorientation, Roller tried to brace himself on trembling arms, shaking his head slowly.

“Nitro...I...I’m sorry. I didn’t...didn’t mean to yell at you,” he whispered hoarsely, though his half-shuttered gaze was on the floor. “...I...dammit…”

“Roller,” Nitrogear asked quietly with a quaking voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Head. Hurts. A lot,” Roller panted, trying to force himself to stand, but only managing to stumble forward a step. “Nitro, I’m sorry. ...dammit...can’t...really see.”

“Okay, okay,” Nitrogear whispered. “I’m...going to try and help you up, okay?”

Lifting his badly blurred gaze to Nitrogear, Roller desperately tried to make out the ‘bot’s expression, but his optics refused to focus enough to do so. Finally, he managed a weak nod. If it could get him on his feet and he could get something to even partially dull the pain, Roller felt like he’d be willing to do just about anything.

Hearing Nitrogear crawl back towards him, Roller instinctively jerked back when he felt Nitrogear grasp his left arm, but just as quickly forced himself to relax.

“Come on,” Nitrogear coaxed quietly, trying to keep his voice low. “Just...slow, okay?”

Gritting his dentae and using Nitrogear to stabilize himself as much as he dared, Roller shakily pushed himself up so he could at least rest his right forearm on his knee. Feeling Nitrogear try to help him up further, Roller shook his head.

“No. Not yet.”

“Okay, okay,” Nitrogear agreed. He leaned forward a little, trying to get a better look at Roller’s face. Now, he could see fresh mech fluid dribbling down from the gouge underneath Roller’s left optic. More concerningly, though, was the look of pure misery etched on the larger mech’s features. “Roller...what happened?”

“I was stupid,” Roller grumbled shortly. “My own...stupidity and damn weakness is what happened.”

“Hey, easy,” Nitrogear chided. “Come on. It’s just about five steps to the recharge slab, okay? Think you can make it?”

Embarrassment at how weak he must seem and regret of his outburst fueling him, Roller nodded and let Nitrogear slowly help him back to his feet. The smaller ‘bot wasn’t able to provide any actual support in the means of physical strength, but it didn’t matter. Roller was almost certain that if Nitrogear were to release his grip on his arm, he’d find himself back on the floor in a matter of seconds.

“This way,” Nitrogear coaxed, guiding Roller to the recharge slab.

Limping the few paces to the recharge slab, Roller grabbed the edge of it the moment he could. Between it and Nitrogear’s grip on his other arm, he was able to climb onto it. Grateful that it had been set in a corner of the room, Roller collapsed against one of the walls it was pressed up against, wincing with the action. He looked down at Nitrogear, barely able to make out that the ‘bot was looking up at him in...not fear, worry.

“I’m going to get the repair kit,” Nitrogear stated. “I’ll be right back.”

Sighing and watching Nitrogear dart over to the shelves and then scurry back, Roller shook his head again.

“Don’t bother. It’s my own fault,” he muttered, voice still faintly strained from pain. “I’ll be fine. Just need a little bit of time to wear through it.”

“Nuh-uh,” Nitrogear objected, climbing up onto the recharge slab and resting on his knees so he could inspect the injury on Roller’s face. “Don’t even start with that macho ‘bot scrap. You-” Nitrogear shivered momentarily, but shook his head and regained his composure. “-you don’t get to yell at me and then sit here and sulk. Hold still.”

Too ashamed and tired to do otherwise, Roller remained still as Nitrogear cleaned up the mech fluid, his actions slowing down and becoming far more careful as he drew closer to the spot the bleeding was coming from. Though he couldn’t make out the details of Nitrogear’s helm, even with the ‘bot this close, Roller’s gaze still flicked across the mech before looking downwards.

“I’m...I’m really sorry,” Roller murmured solemnly. “Didn’t mean to yell at you like that, Nitro. That probably tops the list of the worst things I could have done.”

“Nah. Worst would have been yanking my arm off,” Nitrogear replied, focus never leaving the task at hand. He wiped away a stray smear of mech fluid from Roller’s jawline before focusing back on the scarring. “Then...yeah, then I might be a little upset. Probably-no, definitely still screaming. Possibly even running away with a couple of stumbles thrown in for good measure. The usual reaction.”

“Damn it, Nitro, cut it out,” Roller retorted, a grin working through the pain on his expression. “You’re going to make me laugh and then we’re both going to be in trouble.”

“Pretty sure I can get you in a headlock or something. You know, use this amazing, brute strength I have and just haven’t been using because I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

“Shut up,” Roller chuckled, struggling to stay still. “I mean it, I’m blaming you if I go blind in my left optic because I’m laughing too hard and you manage to stab me with something.”

“Okay, okay,” Nitrogear said with a short laugh. He frowned slightly, then looked up at Roller. “Yeah, I’m going to need you to hold real still. This...this is not going to feel good.”

Watching Nitrogear produce something from the repair kit, Roller braced himself, gaze going forward and focusing blankly on the wall across from him. He grunted sharply when he felt Nitrogear attempt to mop up the mech fluid on the injury, but remained still. Nitrogear himself was silent, not even humming or making any sort of noise of thought as he worked.

“Is it bad?”

“Keeps bleeding,” Nitrogear responded, looking up. “I’m a little nervous to put anything on it, but I really think I should try to staunch the bleeding.”

“Do it.”

“Roller-”

“Just...do it, Nitro. Can’t have it continually bleeding all over the place.”

“If there’s still shrapnel in there, putting anything on it to stop the bleeding could potentially jam it further. Then you really could go blind in that optic.”

“Don’t you think me pressing on the injury would have done that by now?”

“You...pushed on the injury?” Nitrogear repeated incredulously.

“Yeah,” Roller answered shortly, lifting his left hand slightly.

“I...why?” Nitrogear’s tone was a mix of almost defeat and bewilderment.

“To see if I could handle the worst pain that the injury could dole out in case I got hit there.”

Sitting back, still resting on his knees, Nitrogear studied Roller for a long, silent moment, tilting his head to the side in process. Turning his head so he could look at Nitrogear with his optic that would actually focus, Roller shrugged and frowned, briefly wincing with the action.

“What?”

Shoulders slouching as his bewilderment grew, Nitrogear stared at Roller a little longer before finally finding his voice.

“Do you just...really not like yourself?”

“Look, I can’t afford to be caught off guard. If somebody manages to land a solid punch, then I need to know if I can stay standing and keep fighting.”

“Two things,” Nitrogear said, sitting back up when he noticed the mech fluid had once again started to slip down Roller’s face. He dabbed it up and, with notable reluctance, got the same vial of thick, paste-like substance he’d used to stop the bleeding before. “One, around here may be rough, but it’s not so bad that you have to worry about getting in a fight every time all the time. Two, stop beating yourself up, Roller.”

“You don’t understand,” Roller argued, holding his head still but clenching a fist when he felt Nitrogear gingerly dab on some of the paste. “What’s the point in being born strong if I can’t even test my limits? No offense, but you have good reason to play it safe. I’ve got no excuse to give myself any breaks.”

“Alright, and let’s say there is shrapnel in there and you managed to actually blind yourself in that optic. Doesn’t that technically put you at more of a disadvantage than you were before? Are you sure you’re just trying to test your limits? Or are you trying to break yourself?”

Though he made a noise as though he was about to make a comeback, Roller stopped, finding his argument wasn’t as good as he’d initially thought. Nitrogear continued to work as carefully as he could, dabbing a generous helping of the paste on the wound. Making a short groan when he felt the paste start to actually solidify against the injury, Roller glanced down at Nitrogear.

Catching the look, Nitrogear looked up at Roller expectantly, moving back a little to ensure he hadn’t missed a spot with the paste. Satisfied, he looked back up at Roller, who still looked to be struggling to find any words at all at the moment. Smiling faintly, Nitrogear began packing up the repair kit.

“Just think about it a little, okay?” he offered. “I put as much of this stuff on there that I dared, but we’re going to have to get you to the medic. That injury is close enough to your optic that I’m not really comfortable working on it any further.”

Sighing and nodding his head, Roller let his gaze fall to the floor. Noticing the action, Nitrogear lightly patted the recharge slab and widened his smile.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Roller. C’mon, there’s a few boxes of Kremzeek and a couple circuit speeders left. Want one?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

Laughing, Nitrogear walked over and put away the repair kit before fishing two boxes of Kremzeek, then circuit speeders, from the supply crate. He walked back over to the recharge slab, frowning when he saw that Roller’s gaze had gone distant and remained downcast.

“Roller?”

There was a hesitation, then Roller’s expression darkened and he looked over at Nitrogear.

“I’d just like a damn answer. Even if it’s something trivial, like they couldn’t stand the fact that I always insisted on drinking that stuff with a straw. Just something...anything to answer why, because not knowing is absolutely driving me out of my mind.”

“Answer? Answer to what?” Nitrogear queried, hopping up onto the recharge slab and sitting beside Roller.

“...why they forgot about me.”

Stopping in the middle of preparing to punch a hole in the box of Kremzeek with a straw, Nitrogear sighed heavily and looked up at Roller. He set the drinks and speeders aside for the moment, folding his hands in his lap.

“I wish I could tell you,” he replied softly, his own gaze going to the floor.

“I’ve been wracking my mind ever since I could form a coherent thought, and there’s been nothing. Not a single thing has stood out. I...I even think I remember Pax yelling to try and find me. ...I think.”

“Pax?”

“Orion Pax. Really good friend of mine. Stuck with me even…,” Roller frowned and sighed heavily. “Even when I let him down during a fight he needed me to actually use the strength I’ve got.”

“Did you hold back during that fight?”

“No, of course not, I-”

“Then how’d you let him down? If you gave it all you had, then how else could you have given more?”

“Nitro...it’s just not that simple,” Roller countered quietly. “Just because I gave it my all doesn’t mean we won. We lost. Badly. Point One Percenters are supposed to be these outstanding types that have abilities nobody else does. Abilities that we should be able to utilize and help people with. I’ve got...nothing. Nothing save for the fact I’m a little stronger than others.”

Picking up the Kremzeek box again and stabbing a hole in the top before handing it and a circuit speeder to Roller, who murmured a quick thanks, Nitrogear worked on trying to open his own box.

“Is there like a secret club of Point One Percenters that meet up every month to discuss these kinds of rules?”

“What? No,” Roller answered with a short laugh.

“So, do you just get a pamphlet when you’re made saying, ‘Congratulations. You are a green spark. A Point One Percenter. From this day forward, all your actions must be pure, altruistic, and without sin. Otherwise, lightning will strike down and smite you where you stand.’?”

“Nitro, give me a break and ease up on the dramatics. What are you getting at?”

“The point I’m trying to make, Roller, is that even if you’re strong, it’s what you do with that strength that matters. Cliche? Sure, but for good reason. Using it to beat yourself up does nobody any good. And who are you trying to prove you’re strong to, anyways? For whatever it’s worth, I think you’re plenty strong and so does Blinker...and I’m pretty sure that guy you suckerpunched across the alley wouldn’t want to tangle with you ever again.”

Shifting his weight slightly, still resting against the wall, Roller made an uncomfortable mutter in response. A weak smile flashed across Nitrogear’s expression as his gaze remained forward.

“And I’m fairly sure Pax wouldn’t want you slowly breaking yourself just because you can weather the damage. Save that strength for when you need it. Or when you need it to help somebody else, you know?”

Finally, Roller looked down at Nitrogear, who had started slowly swinging his pedes as he continued to stare forward. A ghost of a smile flashed across his features, and he lightly elbowed Nitrogear, making the smaller ‘bot sway slightly before looking up at him.

“Thanks, Nitro.”

“Part of what I’m here for,” Nitrogear replied with a grin. He then reached over and picked up the box of Kremzeek. “Any chance I could get you to use that strength of yours to open this box?”

“So, you can beat up furniture, but a Kremzeek box is a no-go?”

Optics narrowing as a smirk formed on his expression, Nitrogear locked his gaze with Roller’s.

“I will hide every single straw in this room and you’ll never find them.”

“Alright, alright, no need for drastic measures,” Roller said quickly, promptly opening the box and handing it back to Nitrogear. “Vicious for a little guy, aren’t you?”

“If you’re a chair, sure.”

Chuckling, Roller took a long drink of the Kremzeek, wincing as a quick flash of pain shot across the left side of his face. Fortunately, Nitrogear seemed to be preoccupied enough with trying to mix the circuit speeder into his drink that he didn’t notice the reaction. After a few moments, Roller looked up at the monitor, which was still on, then down to Nitrogear.

“That...other Point One Percenter you mentioned. He have a name?”

“Not that I know of. He’s got a rather...weird nickname, but that seems to be the only thing anybody around here knows him as.”

“Nickname?”

“Puppet.”

Stopping, Roller frowned slightly in thought, then looked down at Nitrogear. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but only vaguely, as though he’d heard it in a passing whisper.

“Puppet?”

“Yeah, I just-he-I-” Nitrogear stopped, shivering noticeably again, almost dropping the Kremzeek box.

“Easy, Nitro, easy,” Roller murmured sitting up in case he needed to steady the smaller ‘bot. “That unnerving, huh?”

“Unnerving, nothing. Roller, the guy scares the spark light out of me.”

“Why would somebody with that kind of power be after somebody like you?” Stopping, Roller gave Nitrogear an apologetic look. “No offense.”

“I don’t know. I just know the guy occasionally pops up here and there and people disappear. People who haven’t exactly abided by the laws, but nothing grievous.”

“Like siphoning energy?”

Ducking his head, Nitrogear’s gaze fell immediately before he nodded miserably. Sighing, Roller lightly patted Nitrogear on the back as assuringly as he could. It bugged him to see Nitrogear go from pure optimism to defeat so quickly and emphatically. Though he didn’t look up, Nitrogear did turn his head slightly towards Roller.

“Sorry, if it’s any consolation, he ever comes looking for me, he doesn’t tend to go after anybody save for his target.”

“Bad day for him if he does come after you,” Roller muttered, taking another drink of the Kremzeek.

“No, no...don’t fight him. Just-”

“Leave you?” Roller interrupted sharply.

His tone made Nitrogear snap his gaze up to Roller, the larger ‘bot looking at Nitrogear pointedly.

“Well, I-I don’t want you to-”

“Don’t even,” Roller cut in with a wave of his hand. “You didn’t leave me out there, so I’m sure as hell not going to leave you. Got it?”

Looking rather sheepish, Nitrogear looked away and then back up at Roller, who gave him an expectant look as he awaited Nitrogear’s answer.

“Got it,” Nitrogear finally answered with a shaky laugh.

“Primus, you’re almost as bad as me,” Roller chuckled.

“Oh, come on, I’m not that bad!”

“I said almost, Nitro, almost.” Stopping, Roller gave Nitrogear a narrow look, even if there was a faint grin playing on his features. “Wait, what do you mean, ‘not that bad’?”

Letting his gaze lazily go back to the monitor, Nitrogear hummed in feigned innocence as he took a long drink of the Kremzeek. Scoffing, Roller rolled his optics and leaned back against the wall with a soft groan.

“See if I ever open another Kremzeek box for you,” he grumbled past a grin, his focus going to the monitor.

The two watched the show on the monitor in silence for a few minutes before Nitrogear looked up at Roller.

“Feeling any better, big guy?”

Pausing for a moment, Roller felt nagging question of ‘Why?’ start to pick up momentum in his thoughts, but he dismissed it. No need to run Nitrogear’s optimism ragged at this point, and, if he was going to be completely honest…

“Yeah, I am. Thanks.”

Grinning, Nitrogear nodded and scooted back on the recharge slab so that he could lean against the wall as well. From what he could tell, Roller had calmed down considerably, and he didn’t appear to be in as much pain as before, physical or otherwise.

“First thing when it’s as safe as can be to go out, we’ll head back over to the medic and have him take a look at that injury.”

“Alright,” Roller agreed with a sigh. “Sorry for making you have to go there two days in a row.”

“Not the first time I’ve had to,” Nitrogear replied with a laugh, sipping at his drink. “Besides, I may be able to get a few more supplies while I wait.”

* * *

Pale green optics flicking across the datapad slowly, Dreadnought tapped the tips of his digits against the back of the datapad slowly in thought. Looking up at Flatline, who was standing across the table from him, Dreadnought studied the medic’s deadpan expression before turning his attention back to the datapad.

“You endorse him?” Dreadnought inquired, faint surprise lacing his voice.

“Yes, sir. If what he has put down is true, then I give my full endorsement.”

“Mindsweep?” Dreadnought’s gaze lifted from the datapad again to the other mech, who was lazily sprawled in a chair set against the wall.

At the sound of his name, Mindsweep gave Dreadnought an endearing grin as he nodded.

“I’m with the doc. If what that guy says is true, then I’m all for bringing him on board.”

“You just want an excuse to use those needles of yours,” Flatline grumbled under his breath.

“Are you trying to give me one?” Mindsweep countered, sitting up slowly.

“Gentlemen,” Dreadnought interjected sharply, gaze going back and forth between the two. “If you would please refrain from goading the other into a fight, we can further discuss our possible, new recruit.”


	6. Dented Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though initially it is Roller who is seeking the assistance of a rather sarcastic and cantankerous medic, it's Nitrogear who ends up with the more grievous injuries.

“How long has your optic been this way?”

Looking down at the medic, irritated that his vision still wouldn’t focus in his left optic, Roller shrugged and mulled over the question before answering.

“Two weeks. Roughly.”

“Hmm.” The medic, named Syringe, no less, tapped his chin slowly in thought before walking over to a set of drawers and rifling through the contents of one of them. “And you said it’s gotten worse?”

“It did after I...messed with it,” Roller answered uncomfortably. He glanced over at Nitrogear, who was leaning against the doorway and appeared to be enraptured with his digit tips on his right hand.

“You irritated the injury?” Syringe repeated, sounding mildly confused.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

His gaze still on Nitrogear, who looked up at the medic’s question but stayed quiet, Roller sighed heavily and shook his head.

“It’s a long story.”

“Well, I’m certainly not in the business of helping people if they’re going to simply undo my work to heal them,” Syringe countered, crossing his arms.

Bristling, Roller started to reply, but Nitrogear waved a hand quickly.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t do it again,” Nitrogear interjected. “He’s just...having a bit of a rough time.”

“He’ll be having a worse time if he doesn’t start taking better care of himself,” Syringe retorted.

“We’re, uhm...working on that,” Nitrogear replied, twiddling his digits quickly.

Starting to feel like he was invisible, Roller shifted his weight and looked pointedly at the medic, who returned the gaze with a narrow-opticed look of his own.

“Look, I’ll do whatever you say,” Roller stated flatly. “I can’t afford to go blind in that optic, anyways. So, whatever you suggest, I’ll do it.”

Studying Roller for a long moment, Syringe straightened his posture and looked over at Nitrogear, who just nodded mutely.

“Very well,” Syringe said. “Lay back on the recharge slab, if you would, and I’ll take a look.”

“How long do you think it’ll take?” Nitrogear queried.

“Are you on a tight schedule or something? Or are you still hyped up on those circuit speeders that are eventually going to melt your insides?”

Frowning, Roller bit back a retort about Syringe’s bedside manner as he lay back on the recharge slab. Hopefully, Syringe was gentler with his hands than he was with his words.

“No,” Nitrogear replied slowly, disregarding the verbal jab. “I was going to get some supplies and such if I had the time available.”

“You’re going to leave me here?” Roller asked, lifting his gaze slightly. He ignored the somewhat perturbed look that Syringe shot him.

“Not forever,” Nitrogear answered with a quick roll of his optics. “But I’m no help just standing around, and I can go get supplies while Syringe works.”

“Or did you need him to hold your hand during the procedure?” Syringe inquired in irritation.

Resisting the urge to tell Syringe that he’d be holding his own helm if he didn’t watch what he was saying, Roller shook his head slightly.

“No, I just don’t know my way back.”

“Well, hold still and I can see how long this may take,” Syringe instructed as he leaned over Roller, a small but bright light clicking on on his helm as he inspected the injuries. “Hm...this may take a while. You’ve got at least a couple hours, Nitrogear. After that, you can come pick up your sparkling, who gets an Energon treat if he’s a good patient.”

Stifling a snicker, Nitrogear nodded and walked over to Roller, lightly setting a hand on his forearm.

“You okay with me leaving? In all seriousness, I don’t mind to stay-”

“I’ll be fine. Just don’t leave me with this guy, as he’s about to kill me with his seemingly unending kindness,” Roller answered, staring up at the ceiling.

“No more Energon treat for you,” Syringe snipped.

“Try not to kill each other, okay?” Nitrogear pleaded with a short sigh. “I’ll be back soon.”

Watching as Nitrogear exited the room, Syringe then turned his attention back to Roller, who was frowning up at the ceiling. Producing what appeared to be an injector of some sort, Syringe tapped it before looking back to Roller.

“We’ll start with a mild anesthesia so I can get a better look at the injury without you moving too much.”

“Right.”

Wincing at the short sting as Syringe injected the anesthesia, Roller stared up at the ceiling, the vision in his left optic still badly blurred. Leaning back over, Syringe studied the rest of the wounds on Roller’s face, humming quietly.

“Nitrogear did a decent enough job, but you’re going to have permanent scarring,” the medic commented.

“Yeah, figured I would.”

“Also, you do know that if you harm a single circuit on that ‘bot, I’ll personally see to it that your optics are gouged out.”

Pausing, Roller looked over at Syringe, who was regarding him with an utterly deadpan expression. Even though he could feel the left side of his face starting to go numb, Roller managed a glare at Syringe.

“You could really work on your bedside manner, you know? Also, I’m not about to hurt the guy that hauled me out of the scrapheap I was in and has been the only one who seems to give a slag whether or not I live or die.”

Looking down at Roller, Syringe lightly tapped the left side of Roller’s helm before glancing over the rest of the mech.

“Are you always this dramatic?” Syringe inquired. Before Roller could answer, though, the medic continued. “And, for your sake, I hope you’re telling the truth. I’m rather tired of having to patch up that ‘bot because somebody else decided to take advantage of his selflessness.”

“Yeah. He told me he’s had some...less than kind guests.”

“That’s putting it about as mildly as you can without laughing,” Syringe retorted, producing a pair of tweezers and a small cutting laser. “Only reason he’s still alive is because his blasted circuit speeder dealer dragged him in here.”

“Blinker?”

“Yes,” Syringe answered, carefully scraping away some of the residual paste that still coated the injury. “Probably one of the worst states I’ve seen Nitrogear in.”

“From that guy who messed up his goggles?” Though he could feel the tweezers scraping across the wound, Roller, fortunately, felt no pain from the action. It was just a little disconcerting to feel the reverberations of metal scraping against metal go through his helm.

“Oh? He told you about it, then?”

“Just a little bit. Said it was over a monitor.”

“That it was. The idiot’s maimed for life over a damn monitor.”

“Maimed for life?”

“Well, somewhat. The ignorant brute that attacked him pretty much obliterated a support strut in Nitrogear’s right hip,” Syringe explained as he continued to clean around the wound. “I don’t have the tools to repair it, and while he can still walk and run, obviously, it will never be as fast as he could before. I imagine it causes him a considerable amount of pain, too.”

“How long has he been helping people like this?” Roller murmured, grimacing slightly when he heard his speech was slurred.

“Longer than he should have. Honestly, though, I don’t know. If it doesn’t get him killed, though, I’ll be very surprised.”

“Anybody tries anything with him when I’m around is going to get a free flying lesson.”

“Well, aren’t you just a regular savior to the masses?” Syringe crooned as he looked carefully at the injury.

“Do you try to see how far you can irritate your patients before they want to perform impromptu surgery on you?”

“Don’t even think of trying to threaten me,” Syringe clipped back. “In any case, there’s a piece of shrapnel embedded in here. Should be able to remove it, and your vision should clear up shortly afterwards. As I said, there’s going to be scarring and there’s not a lot I can do about that. But I should be able to polish up the patch job that Nitrogear did on your side, as well.”

“Just...do what’s necessary. Bad enough that Nitrogear’s having to foot the bill for this, I don’t want to tack on anything else.”

“I’ll do what’s necessary to keep you from having to make repeated visits back,” Syringe countered. “Now, hold still. This is going to feel a bit odd.”

Though the left side of his face was almost completely numb, Roller still winced when he felt the pressure of the tweezers clamp down on what he assumed was the piece of shrapnel. Gripping at the slab as Syringe began to slowly pull the shrapnel free, Roller gritted his dentae against the scratching sensation of the piece of metal being withdrawn. Syringe seemed completely unfazed, but Roller could only assume the medic had either seen worse or done this numerous times before.

“Got it,” Syringe proclaimed, holding up the piece of metal in the tweezers. “Buried in there pretty far. Now then, for the rest of your injuries.”

* * *

Darting through the crowd as quickly as he could, Nitrogear mentally went through the list of what he was going to need. So far, he had about half of what was on the list, and he knew that they’d need more circuit speeders, but that would have to wait.

Making his way into another store, Nitrogear looked over the contents on the shelves, but his thoughts were drifting back to Roller. He felt kind of bad, having just left him with Syringe, who could be rather caustic at times, but Nitrogear wouldn’t have been any help. Besides, it beat just leaving Roller at his place while he got supplies.

He was so distracted that he didn’t notice the ‘bot coming up behind him until it was too late.

“Well, look who it is.”

The voice made Nitrogear freeze, but the moment a hand clamped down hard on his shoulder, he yelped and whirled around. It was one of the ‘bots that had been attacking Blinker. And, judging by the massive dent in his helm, it was the one that Roller had practically thrown up against the wall.

“Where’s your buddy, huh?” the mech crooned, optics narrowing as his mouth turned up into a cruel grin.

“He’s...just outside.”

“Outside, huh?” The ‘bot looked over at the doorway, then back at Nitrogear. “Now, you wouldn’t be trying to lie to me, would you? Pretty sure I would have seen the big lug. Guy sticks out worse than a frayed wire.”

“Then...maybe he just went into another store. I don’t know,” Nitrogear answered quickly, trying to keep his voice from trembling. “I don’t keep tabs on him.”

“Oh yeah? Sure he didn’t just happen to leave? I mean, it’d be a real shame if he did.” The mech’s grip on Nitrogear’s shoulder slowly intensified, drawing a whimper. “A shame for you, anyways.”

“Please, just let me go. I didn’t do-”

“Didn’t do anything?” the mech interrupted sharply, leaning forward and glowering at Nitrogear. “You brought your damn tank of a friend who just about knocked my brain module out and broke my friend’s face!”

“You were hurting my friend!” Nitrogear argued, panic starting to rise in his voice.

“Your ‘friend’? That little circuit speeder junkie? You’ve got to be kidding me. Guys like him are everywhere, and they don’t have friends. They have addicts and that’s it.”

“Look, just-just please let me go. I just want to be left alone.”

“Hey, sure, I’ll leave you alone,” the mech agreed with a shrug, his hand falling from Nitrogear’s shoulder. He then lunged and grabbed one of the handlebars on Nitrogear’s helm, wrenching Nitrogear’s head to the side hard enough to make Nitrogear cry out in pain. “Right after I’m done pounding you into scrap.”

“Hey!”

Looking up at the sound, the two found themselves being stared down by a rather cross looking shop owner. Trying to wordlessly plead with his optics, Nitrogear tried to wriggle his way free, but the mech had a firm grip on his helm.

“If you two are going to fight, do it outside,” the owner stated, ignoring Nitrogear’s pleading look. “I’m not cleaning up any mess caused by your scuffle.”

“Sure thing, sir,” the mech replied with a grin.

Half dragging Nitrogear out of the shop, the mech hurled Nitrogear to the ground, kicking Nitrogear in the side the moment he could. Whimpering, Nitrogear tried to roll back and get to his feet, but as he did, the mech brought his knee up hard and fast against Nitrogear’s chin.

The impact sent Nitrogear staggering back, and he crashed against another mech, who snapped some angry retort before shoving Nitrogear right back to his attacker. Staggering once again, Nitrogear winced when he felt a twinge of pain shoot up from his right hip as the joint twisted too far. He didn’t have time to think on the pain, though, as his attacker grabbed him roughly by the chassis.

“I was about to ask,” the mech chuckled. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Struggling to break free, Nitrogear tried to push the mech away, but only succeeded in making him stumble a little. The action was unappreciated, and the ‘bot promptly cracked his fist across Nitrogear’s face before landing another solid punch to Nitrogear’s midsection.

Grunting, flecks of light flashing in his vision, Nitrogear desperately worked to focus past the pain. He had to run. He had to get out of there...get back to Roller. Nitrogear hated the idea of dragging Roller back into another fight, but there was no way he was going to be able to hold his own.

Another punch slammed against his face, causing his vision to momentarily blur, and Nitrogear was grimly aware that he was tasting his own mech fluid. Looking past his attacker, he saw the alleyway he needed to get to, and Nitrogear gritted his dentae before shoving his attacker away with as much strength as he could muster.

It was enough, and it gave Nitrogear enough of an opportunity to run past the mech and towards the alleyway. He could hear the ‘bot give pursuit, but if he could keep this pace, then he should be able to outrun them. ...hopefully.

Pedes hammering against the ground, Nitrogear turned the corner sharply, feeling a familiar ache start to well up in his right hip. One hand reflexively clutching at his side, Nitrogear struggled to keep the pace he’d initially set.

“No, no,” he hissed. “Not now. I can’t have this now!”

He could hear his attacker still following him, and Nitrogear turned another corner quickly. This time, a sharp stab of pain shot up from his right hip and he cried out, staggering and gripping at the nearby wall to try and steady himself. Looking up, panic written on his features, Nitrogear gauged how much further he had to go. It wasn’t...too far, but his attacker was quickly closing whatever space there was between them.

“Come on,” Nitrogear panted, forcing himself to lurch forward. “Come on!”

His pace now broken with an obvious limp, Nitrogear struggled towards Syringe’s residence. If he could just get there, get inside, then maybe his attacker wouldn’t be as keen on pursuing him with the other two ‘bots around. Whimpering, Nitrogear wiped away a small dribble of mech fluid from the corner of his mouth as he limped around the last corner. At the end of the alley, he could see the outcropping of the doorway to Syringe’s home, and Nitrogear put on a final burst of speed.

“Syringe!” he yelled, desperation getting the better of him. He knew he shouldn’t have shouted, that it would only alert his attacker to his location, but Nitrogear couldn’t help it. Just...anything if it would get him to safety. “Syringe!”

It was then that Nitrogear heard the hammering footfalls of his attacker come up behind him, and he only succeeded in partially turning around before the mech tackled him. The ‘bot’s shoulder slammed against Nitrogear’s chassis and he knocked Nitrogear down hard onto Nitrogear’s right side. Flares of pain shot up from his hip through his entire body, and Nitrogear screamed as he tried to scrabble away. His right leg was practically useless, and he clawed at the ground as he struggled to get free.

He only managed in gaining a little bit of ground before his attacker cracked his fist across Nitrogear’s helm, waves of pain radiating from the impact point. Screaming, hoping that maybe somebody would hear him, Nitrogear tried to move his head so that it wasn’t a target. His attacker, however, had solidly pinned him against the ground, borderline crushing Nitrogear. Feeling something in his right hip creak threateningly, Nitrogear screamed again and feebly punched at the dent on the side of the mech’s helm.

It appeared to work, at least a little, as the mech scrambled back enough to get out of Nitrogear’s reach. It wasn’t enough to stop the attack entirely, though, and the ‘bot sat up before pounding a series of punches across Nitrogear’s face and helm.

Though his vision was blurred and there was a terrible ringing in his audial receptors, Nitrogear could still hear the mech cursing him with every vile cuss that Nitrogear had heard. Coughing against a mouthful of mech fluid, Nitrogear made another, weak struggle to try and get free, but it only seemed to further infuriate his attacker, as the blows became fiercer.

“How’s it feel to have your own head beat in, huh!?”

Whimpering, Nitrogear tried to cover his head as best he could, spitting out a mouthful of mech fluid. His attacker drove another, hard punch against Nitrogear’s side, causing Nitrogear to reflexively jerk. Grabbing Nitrogear by the shoulders, the mech hauled him up, sending fresh new stabs of pain up from Nitrogear’s hip.

“I asked you a question, you piece of slagging scrap!” the ‘bot yelled, practically right in Nitrogear’s face.

“Please…,” Nitrogear whimpered, clutching weakly at the mech’s wrists. “Just...please just let me go.”

“Not until you’ve coughed up at least half your Energon,” came the harsh reply as Nitrogear was shoved back down onto the ground.

“You’re going to be coughing up all your Energon!”

His gaze snapping up just in time to see Roller charging towards them, the mech tried to scramble back. He wasn’t fast enough, though, and Roller scored a heavy, armor breaking kick straight to the ‘bot’s chassis. The impact lifted the mech off the ground, sending him reeling back and crashing against the ground.

“I told you to leave him alone,” Roller snarled, stalking over to the ‘bot. “You don’t listen at all, do you?”

Coughing and making a pained, heaving noise, the mech tried to scrabble back, looking up at Roller in terror. Reaching down, Roller grabbed the ‘bot by the throat, crushing the neck cables in his grip before hurling the mech against the alleyway wall. Grimly relishing the pained cry the ‘bot made, Roller began to stride over to the ‘bot. Even with his vision still blurred and the wounds on his side sporting fresh pain from Syringe working on them, Roller was more than a match for the mech. And whatever pain that tried to seep through was quickly dulled by the fury racing through Roller’s senses.

“I let you off easy the first time,” Roller growled. “No such luck for you this-”

“...Roller?”

The sound of Nitrogear’s shuddering, weak voice stopped him in mid-step, and Roller turned to see Nitrogear slowly trying to get up, only to collapse with a yelp. Down at the end of the alley, Syringe had darted out of his home, optics going wide at the sight. It was only the sound of panicked sprinting that snatched Roller’s attention, and he turned back to see that the mech was making a break for it. Though he started to give chase, Roller was stopped when Syringe called out to him.

“I’m going to need your help, here!” Syringe cried as he knelt at Nitrogear’s side, his digit tips lightly grazing across Nitrogear’s trembling form.

Snarling a curse at having to let the attacker go, Roller jogged over to Syringe, feeling his insides go cold as he got closer and could see the damage that had been done. There were dents, scrapes, and gouges marring Nitrogear’s face and chassis, and mech fluid was welling up from the various impact points. Making a pitiful moan, Nitrogear coughed up another mouthful of mech fluid as Syringe carefully rolled him onto his side.

“Pick him up,” Syringe ordered. “Carefully, mind you.”

Kneeling down, Roller scooped up Nitrogear as gently as he could manage, wincing when he heard Nitrogear make a short cry of discomfort. Looking up at Roller with a pained and dazed expression, Nitrogear rested his head against Roller’s arm, still convulsing weakly. Sighing, Roller looked over at Syringe, who was already quickly walking back to his home.

“Hurry up. I need to get to work on those injuries as quickly as possible,” Syringe stated tersely.

Walking as fast as he dared, trying not to jostle Nitrogear any more than absolutely necessary, Roller looked back down at the smaller ‘bot. The sight only reignited Roller’s fury and he gritted his dentae, already regretting that the attacker had gotten away.

“Roller…?”

Immediately trying to calm himself, Roller moved his arm slightly so as to lift Nitrogear’s head a little.

“Yeah, I’m here, Nitro. What is it?”

“...thanks. Saved me...twice now.”

“Hardly think this counts as saving you,” Roller answered grimly with a sigh.

“...could’ve...been worse.”

“Yeah, well, save that optimism. You’re going to need it to deal with Syringe.”

Managing a wheezed chuckle that promptly turned into a hoarse cough, Nitrogear retched up another, small mouthful of mech fluid with a grimace.

“...sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, Nitro. Just hang in there and we’ll have you patched up in no time,” Roller replied as he walked back into Syringe’s home, trying to be as careful as he could to keep from possibly jarring Nitrogear. Finally back into the operating room, where Syringe had already hastily cleaned off the recharge slab and was impatiently waiting. “Going to set you down now, okay?”

“Yeah...sure,” Nitrogear rasped, struggling to stifle a wince as another wave of misery washed over him. It felt like his right hip had been stabbed clean through, and his senses spun sickeningly. Throbs of pain pulsed through his head, and even though Roller tried to be as careful as possible, agony shot through his back as Roller lowered him onto the slab. “Hnnf!”

“Easy, easy,” Syringe murmured, stepping up to the slab the moment he could. He held up his index digit in front of Nitrogear’s face, frowning as he watched the ‘bot struggle to focus. “Follow.”

Though he managed to do so, Nitrogear whimpered as he felt his neck creak with the action. Syringe nodded and grabbed another injector of anesthesia, tapping at the capsule before holding it up so that Nitrogear could see it.

“Just some anesthesia to take the edge off the pain. You’re going to feel a small bit of pressure, then it should start going numb.”

“Okay.”

“Do you need me to step out of the room?” Roller asked Syringe quietly.

“Please...don’t,” Nitrogear wheezed, looking at Roller.

Pausing, Roller looked down at Syringe, who was administering the anesthesia with as much care as he could. Catching the look, Syringe looked back up at Roller and nodded.

“Well, you heard him. Sounds like you’re staying put. Just try not to get in the way.”

Shooting a quick glare at Syringe that went ignored, Roller looked back at Nitrogear and nodded.

“Sure thing, Nitro,” Roller agreed, keeping his voice down. He stepped back so that he was at the foot of the recharge slab, but made sure he remained in Nitrogear’s sight. “Just going to stay over here so Syringe can work, alright?”

“...thanks.”

* * *

Even after half an hour of being worked on and despite swaying in and out of consciousness, Nitrogear still convulsed intermittently, making pitiful whimpers with each one. Though he’d kept quiet throughout watching Syringe work, a sudden shudder from Nitrogear made Roller look over at the medic.

“Why does he keep doing that?” Roller inquired.

“Pain mixed with trauma,” Syringe replied quickly, carefully sealing one of the gouges on Nitrogear’s face. “He doesn’t deal well with stress, if you haven’t noticed.”

“He is a little...jumpy.”

“And those damn circuit speeders he’s addicted to certainly don’t help anything.”

Making a short grunt in response, Roller looked away, not quite sure how to answer. Noticing, Syringe looked up at Roller and narrowed his optics.

“Don’t tell me you take those cancer-causing things, too.”

“Sometimes…,” Roller stated slowly.

“Dear Primus’s shadow,” Syringe grumbled, turning his focus back to Nitrogear. “Why in the hell would you take those things? You’re big enough to tear just about anything in half.”

Tensing, but biting back a retort as he reminded himself that getting upset could worsen Nitrogear’s condition, Roller gripped at the edge of the recharge slab before answering.

“Gives me an edge that I need.”

“An edge that you need?” Syringe repeated incredulously, though he didn’t stop working on Nitrogear. “For what? Are you planning to take on the whole of the Elite Guard?”

“If I have to, _fine_!” Roller snapped back, temper flaring.

Though Nitrogear made a soft groan, Syringe snapped his gaze to Roller’s, blue optics narrowed furiously as he pointed at Roller.

“One more outburst like that and I will kick you out of here,” Syringe hissed. “Nitrogear’s under enough stress as it is and he certainly doesn’t need you adding to it.”

Glowering at Syringe, Roller forced back a retort. The medic had no idea how close he was to getting to a still very sore subject, but Roller didn’t want to upset Nitrogear any further. ...even if the ‘bot couldn’t really hear him at this point.

Slowly turning his attention back to Nitrogear, Syringe began to tend to the last of the dents that flecked Nitrogear’s face. He sighed and shrugged, stretching his joints before proceeding. Watching in silence, still trying to stamp down his anger, Roller looked over Nitrogear slowly.

“How long is he going to be out of commission?”

“Hard to say,” Syringe replied, taking a few steps to the side to inspect Nitrogear’s right hip. “He’s certainly not going to be walking properly for at least a few days. Luckily, none of the hits landed on his optics, so his vision shouldn’t be affected.”

Only able to nod in response, Roller moved his gaze across Nitrogear’s right leg. It was quirked at an odd angle, and even though there was no visible damage to his hip, there was no denying that something was currently out of place. Humming in thought, Syringe shook his head and then looked up at Roller.

“I trust you’re willing to pay back at least some of the compassion that Nitrogear’s shown you?”

Giving Syringe a narrow look, Roller nodded again.

“Of course I am.” Standing up, making a short wince at the twinge of pain that shot up from his lower back, Roller then shrugged off-handedly. “Not sure how much good I can do, though. I’m definitely no medic.”

“I can patch him up so that all he should need is rest and some time to recuperate,” Syringe explained, gingerly working Nitrogear’s leg back into place. “In the meantime, you’re going to need to make sure this stubborn fool doesn’t aggravate his injuries any further.”

“Got it.”

“For his sake, I certainly hope you do,” Syringe snipped back.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, Syringe stepped back from the recharge slab, wiping away a few stray smears of mech fluid from Nitrogear’s body. He turned to look at Roller, who stood up a bit straighter upon catching the medic’s gaze.

“I’m going to get him a few things that should help keep the pain at bay as well as help replenish some of the Energon he’s lost. Just make sure he takes them, would you?”

Before he could fully answer, Roller had to step to the side to avoid having Syringe bowl right into him. Glowering at the medic as he walked down the hall to another room, Roller turned his attention back to Nitrogear. Taking a few steps so that he was at the side of the recharge slab, Roller lightly set a hand on Nitrogear’s shoulder.

“You’re going to have to take it easy for a few days, buddy,” he murmured. “Can’t have you limping around the place and making your problems worse.”

To Roller’s mute surprise, Nitrogear made a soft moan as his optics flickered back on. He moved his head slightly, and upon seeing Roller managed a weak grin.

“You...finally kick Syringe out?”

“As much as I would have liked to, no,” Roller chuckled. “Doc said he was stepping out to get you some stuff to help with the pain and Energon loss.”

“Oh...okay.” Looking around, still obviously drowsy from the anesthesia, Nitrogear turned his gaze back to Roller. “You...stayed the whole time?”

“Of course I did. Wasn’t about to up and leave you.”

Nitrogear’s grin returned, this time with noticeably more sincerity.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Besides, I couldn’t just haul off and-”

“Am I interrupting something?”

Syringe’s voice made Roller look up. The medic was standing in the doorway, holding two, small containers. He had the faintest hint of a smirk on his features, and he shrugged slightly.

“I can come back if I’m ruining a private moment,” he crooned.

“No, that’s fine,” Roller replied, standing up. “That would mean we have to stay here longer.”

Obviously unamused by Roller’s response, Syringe strode over and handed him the two containers. One was filled with what appeared to be a thick, reddish fluid, and the other was filled with blue-colored capsules. Looking them over, Roller frowned as he tried to make sense of the ingredients.

“The capsules will help with the pain,” Syringe explained. “Maximum he can take is two every hour, no more. The liquid should be administered before each recharge cycle he takes. Understood?”

Roller nodded and looked over at Nitrogear, who was watching them in silence. Storing the containers in a small compartment, Roller turned to Nitrogear, who had started to try and sit up. Stepping over, Syringe set a hand on Nitrogear’s back, slowly helping him into a sitting position. Motioning to Nitrogear, Roller glanced to Syringe.

“Said he can’t walk, right?”

“Yes, I can,” Nitrogear interjected weakly.

“That’s correct, Roller,” Syringe replied, giving Nitrogear a pointed look. “No walking for at least a few days until his hip stabilizes.”

“Can’t I just...transform, then?” Nitrogear asked, hunched over and still shivering intermittently.

“Certainly,” Syringe answered, sarcasm lacing his voice. “If you’re looking to destroy another set of support struts, put enough strain on your T-cog to break it, and exacerbate your injuries further, then by all means, transform away.”

Glaring at Syringe, Roller started to say something, but stopped when Nitrogear just nodded miserably. Either the mech was in too much pain, too tired, or a mix of both to really be bothered by Syringe’s gross lack of bedside manner. After a few moments, Nitrogear looked between Syringe and Roller, seemingly perplexed by the situation he found himself in.

“So...how am I supposed to get around? I can’t just stay bedridden the whole time.”

“Yes, you can and you will,” Syringe retorted, stepping back before turning to Roller. “And you’re going to carry him should he need to be moved.”

“He...what?” Nitrogear repeated, sounding almost horrified at the idea.

Shooting Syringe a quick, narrow-opticed look, Roller turned to Nitrogear and gave a quick nod of his head.

“You heard him,” Roller agreed. “You’re not that much heavier than Blinker, anyways.”

“I am not an infant…!” Nitrogear protested weakly. “I am...perfectly capable of walking...by myself.”

“Well, no Energon treat for you, either. Besides, he’s already carried you around once. I highly doubt a few more times is going to kill you. In fact, it’d probably do the exact opposite,” Syringe commented. He turned his gaze back to Roller. “Just mind his right hip joint and try not to put too much pressure on it. Other than that, he should be fine to carry around.”

“Don’t...you dare...pick me up,” Nitrogear stated, pointing a shaking digit at Roller. “Only reason...you could before...was I was almost...unconscious.”

“Nitro, I’m sure your ego will survive this,” Roller countered, crossing his arms. “Now, stop acting like me and get it through your head that you’re getting carried home, whether you like it or not.”

Making a short huff, Nitrogear looked away, glaring at the wall. Tilting his head to the side, Syringe made a ‘tsk’ing noise and shook his head.

“I don’t think I’ve seen anybody pout like that since the time I had to tell Blinker to give up circuit speeders for a week.”

Grumbling something under his breath, Nitrogear held up his hands to Roller, still glaring at the wall. Only partially muffling a chuckle, Roller reached down and carefully picked the smaller ‘bot up. Nitrogear wrapped his arms around Roller’s neck, making a stifled whine of pain when Roller lifted him up off the recharge slab. Though he quickly shifted Nitrogear in his arms to better support the mech, Roller didn’t miss the fact that Nitrogear clutched tightly at the back of his shoulders, both hands trembling faintly.

“Careful,” Syringe chided gently. “Try not to jostle him too much on the way back, and he should be fine.”

“It’s dark outside now, isn’t it?” Nitrogear murmured.

“Yeah, buddy, it is,” Roller replied, mindful to keep his voice low. “Not a problem, though. You just give me directions and we’ll get back to your place before you know it.”

“Just remember what I said about the medications and he should recover as best he can,” Syringe advised as he walked the two out. “Other than that, if you run into the guy that did this to him, break his adorable head in half, would you?”

Nitrogear grumbled something unintelligible, but Roller just nodded in regards to Syringe’s last question. If he got his hands on the ‘bot that had put Nitrogear in this state, breaking his head would be just the start…

Walking down the alleyway, trying to be mindful of his steps, Roller found his gaze pulled back down to the spatters of Nitrogear’s mech fluid that stained the ground. Frowning, he shrugged a little to get Nitrogear’s attention, trying to be careful with the action. The ‘bot was resting his head against Roller’s shoulder and had his optics shuttered off, but he made a soft moan and lifted his head in response.

“Yeah…?”

“Tell me if I need to slow down or anything, alright?”

“Sure,” Nitrogear answered quietly with a weak nod of his head, shuttering his optics back on. Resting his head back against Roller’s shoulder, he sighed shortly, making a short cough against the taste of his own mech fluid still in his mouth. “Sorry for being so...disagreeable back there.”

“Don’t worry about it. Though, if you’d kept it up, I might have been a little offended,” Roller replied with a faint smirk. “I may not be the most compassionate of ‘bots, but I sure as hell wasn’t just going to leave you there.”

“Yeah, heh...thanks.”

“Especially with that mouthy medic,” Roller grumbled, optics narrowing slightly. “I’ve known malfunctioning service drones that had a better bedside manner than he did.”

“Big ol’ mech...scared of a...teeny tiny medic?” Nitrogear teased.

“Hey, mocking the bodyguard is not advised,” Roller replied, though a grin flashed across his expression. “It is liable to lead to being dropped off at a hyperactive, paranoid circuit speeder dealer’s home until a sufficient apology is given.”

Feebly chuckling, Nitrogear lifted his head, looking around slowly.

“Roller...slow...stop, please.”

Stopping, Roller moved his head slightly to indicate he was waiting for Nitrogear to continue.

“Uh...not the...the next left...but the one after that. Take...take that left.”

“Got it,” Roller replied with a nod as he resumed his careful pace. “Still doing okay? You’re looking a little faint there.”

“Yeah...sorry. Right side’s...still sore. Should be...okay.”

“Need me to move you or anything?” Glancing around quickly, though doubtful there’d be anybody stupid enough to try and cross him, even at this hour of the night, Roller shifted his weight. Nitrogear still had an arm around his neck, but it was notably looser now, and he seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness again. “We’re not in any rush, Nitro.”

“Nah...I’m good. Thanks...though. Don’t like being...out here so late.”

“Trust me, I’m still torqued off at that guy, so the first idiot that tries anything is going to get a few new joints.”

“Yeah...guess so.” Nitrogear lightly tapped on the back of Roller’s shoulder. “And what’s with...this bodyguard title you...you gave yourself?”

“Eh, consider it a temp job that’s just a part of your bartering system. Least I could do for you footing my medical bills, anyways.”

Turning the corner, Roller hesitated only briefly when he heard quick footfalls from what sounded like the alleyway behind them. He felt Nitrogear reflexively tense, and Roller shrugged lightly again. While he didn’t want to dismiss the possibility of somebody coming up behind them, Roller didn’t want Nitrogear to needlessly panic.

“Hey, Nitro?”

“Yeah?”

“Your vision cleared up enough you could watch my six? If you need to rest, say so. Don’t want you exhausting yourself any further.”

“No, no...it’s okay. I can...I can keep an eye out.”

“Alright, thanks. We just turned the corner, though, Nitro. Where to next?”

“Take another left at...the end of the alley,” Nitrogear instructed, trying to scoot up so that he could see better over Roller’s shoulder. “Then...then an immediate right.”

“Got it. Still doing alright?”

There was a pause, followed by a heavy sigh from Nitrogear. Slowing his pace, Roller tilted his head slightly when he felt Nitrogear shift his weight slowly.

“Right side...hurting a little more,” Nitrogear murmured. He carefully leaned back, giving Roller a tired, almost defeated, look.

“Right,” Roller stated with a short nod. “Think you can move without stressing the wound too much?”

“Yeah. Just...don’t drop me.”

“Don’t think you have to worry about that, Nitro. You weigh less than your buddy Blinker, and you’re more likely to sprout jets and fly than me drop you.”

Laughing hoarsely, Nitrogear winced as he shifted his weight, Roller carefully transferring him from one arm to the other. Grimacing when he heard Nitrogear whimper and something inside the smaller ‘bot groan in low protest, Roller held as still as he could as Nitrogear squirmed weakly for a few moments before getting comfortable. Now relaxing his head against Roller’s left shoulder, once again draping his arm around Roller’s neck loosely, Nitrogear lifted his gaze when he felt Roller begin walking again.

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah...thanks.”

“You got it.” Turning the next left, almost missing the immediate right that Nitrogear had warned him about, Roller shrugged lightly. “Still all clear?”

“Yeah. Nobody’s suicidal tonight...it seems.”

“Hey, they’re getting smarter.” Looking up at the dark sky briefly, Roller slowed down to pick his way through a trash-ridden stretch of the alleyway. “Where to, next?”

“Just...one more left. You remember what the door...looks like, right?”

“Yeah, I do. In that case, you can relax. I figure we’ll be fine for the short rest of this walk.”

Still in too much pain to argue, Nitrogear rested his head back on Roller’s shoulder. His yellow optics were dim and half-shuttered, but he could still easily see where Syringe had tried to repair what he could of the injuries on the left side of Roller’s face. Sighing heavily, Nitrogear shuttered his optics off briefly, slowly flexing both hands.

“Still doing okay?” Roller inquired as he turned the corner.

“Yeah, thanks. Just...tired, I guess.”

“Almost there, Nitro, and then you’re going to get a good, long recharge cycle in, got it?”

“What...about you?”

“What about me? I’m doing fine,” Roller answered, putting on a confident, half grin. “Left side of my face is still a bit numb, but that’s hardly anything to be concerned about. Doc said it’d be numb for a little while, then sore, but that it’s all normal.”

“Okay...I guess.”

“I’ll be fine,” Roller stated, tilting his head. As he approached the doorway to Nitrogear’s home, Roller slowed his pace. “I am, however, going to need that door code. Or, if you don’t want to tell me, I can-”

“Nine, six, three, zero, seven.”

Making a short noise of agreement, Roller jabbed the code in on the keypad...but his digits were a bit too big for the keypad, and he entered the last two digits wrong. Grumbling under his breath, Roller shook his hand and straightened his posture. Trying again, he only succeeded in getting the first two digits right, and the keypad beeped angrily at him.

At the sound, Nitrogear lifted his head slowly and looked down at the keypad, then at Roller inquisitively.

“Nitro, I’m about to give your home a new doorway if third time isn’t the charm,” Roller muttered, optics narrowing at the keypad.

“Just...wait about a minute, then...try again. It doesn’t time out...unless you wait about five minutes...to enter the next digit.”

“Thank Primus for small miracles…”

This time, taking his time and making sure to press the proper digit, Roller succeeded in opening the door. At the sound of the metal door screeching open, Nitrogear sighed heavily in relief and set his head back down on Roller’s shoulder.

“Don’t think I’ve been...this happy to be home...in a long time.”

“Yeah, you’re home, Nitro.”


	7. Recuperation Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tables are turned as Nitrogear, still recovering from his injuries, finds himself reliant on Roller's assistance. Meanwhile, Mindsweep has to pay Flatline a visit that he promptly regrets.

Groaning softly, Nitrogear shuttered his optics back online, working to focus on the ceiling above him. Draping his forearm over his optics for the moment, he shivered and tried to ignore the pain that was drumming through his body. His other hand weakly clutched at the recharge slab, and Nitrogear whimpered as the pain flared in his right hip.

“Nitro?”

Roller’s voice managed to divert Nitrogear’s attention from the pain he was in, at least for the moment, and Nitrogear lifted his forearm from his optics before resting it on his chassis. Looking over, Nitrogear saw Roller already walking over from the chair to recharge slab. The larger mech knelt down and looked over Nitrogear quickly before catching Nitrogear’s gaze with his own.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Like I got a free flying lesson and failed the final exam,” Nitrogear groaned. He looked around slowly, then back to Roller. “How long was I out for?”

“You’ve been recharging for the whole day, but you were in and out of it for a while, there. Kind of had me a little worried.”

“What? Was I speaking in weird languages in my sleep?”

“No,” Roller replied with a short laugh. “Just...you sounded like you were in a lot of pain. Kept trying to talk to somebody. Not even sure if you were referring to me or somebody that wasn’t there.”

“Oh, sorry about that,” Nitrogear murmured, looking a little embarrassed. He shifted his weight to try and sit up, but the pain that gripped his entire frame promptly pulled him back down onto the slab. “...dammit.”

“Hey, easy,” Roller cautioned, lifting a hand. “You sure you want to be moving around so soon?”

“I’m tired of being stuck on this thing, Roller,” Nitrogear grumbled, moving again to try and sit up. “I want to move or something.”

“Okay, how about you let me help you, then? Before you make your injuries worse.” Sliding his hand underneath Nitrogear’s upper back, Roller looked down at the smaller mech, who was looking none too pleased with the prospect of somebody having to help him sit up. “Primus, you can sulk with the best of them, can’t you?”

Looking up at Roller, Nitrogear started to reply, but was cut off when a short cry of pain wrenched itself from him. Reflexively grabbing Roller’s arm, Nitrogear groaned and gritted his dentae, having to let the larger ‘bot carefully help him into a sitting position. Wincing as the pain began to slowly subside, Nitrogear shivered and clutched at his right hip with his free hand.

Concern lightly written on his features, Roller watched Nitrogear carefully, continuing to support him as he trembled and seemed to be working through whatever pain he was in. After a few moments, Nitrogear appeared to relax, and he looked over at Roller and nodded.

“Yeah...I’m good. Thanks.”

“No problem, Nitro. You okay, though? You looked like you were hurting real-whoa, whoa!” Surprise cut Roller off when Nitrogear scooted to the edge of the slab and appeared ready to try and clamber off the thing. “Where do you think you’re going? You heard the doc, you’re not supposed to be putting any weight on that hip of yours for at least a couple days.”

“Well, how am I supposed to get around?”

“Was there somewhere you wanted to go?” Roller inquired, glancing around the room.

“I’m going to have to get some more supplies, including food and drink,” Nitrogear explained, still looking as though he were debating on whether or not to hop off the recharge slab. “Plus, I’d like to just...move around. I don’t really like being immobile.”

“I’ve got some bad news for you on that one, buddy,” Roller stated, eyeing Nitrogear. “If you’re wanting to go anywhere, you’re getting carried there.”

The look of stark mollification that Nitrogear gave Roller was priceless, and the larger mech chuckled before shrugging off-handedly.

“You heard Syringe. No weight on that hip of yours until it’s stabilized. And that’s going to take a couple of days, so until then...no walking.”

“I’m useless,” Nitrogear groaned, weakly clutching at the sides of his helm. “Can’t walk. Can’t even transform! Just take me out and kill me already. Sell me off for parts.”

“For Primus’ sake, Nitro,” Roller groaned, even though he was faintly grinning. “Ever considered going for an acting career? Pretty sure that nobody could match your level of dramatics.”

Frowning up at Roller, Nitrogear studied the larger mech’s expression. His grin taking on a tone of knowing, Roller shook his head slightly.

“I mean it, Nitro. If you want to go anywhere, you’re getting carried there. I don’t care if it’s across the planet or across this room, you’re not walking with your hip damaged the way it is. I will go find Syringe and tell him you’re not following his orders if you actually try to walk on your own.”

“Jeez, you’re mean,” Nitrogear grumbled, loosely crossing his arms.

“That’s me,” Roller replied with a roll of his optics. “A regular, ‘ole bloodthirsty tyrant who finds delight in the torture and suffering of others. Now, then...do I have to keep proving what an evil ‘bot I am by keeping you from making your injuries worse? Or are you thoroughly convinced?”

“And you call me dramatic?” Nitrogear exclaimed.

Roller just gave Nitrogear a level look and said nothing. Finally, with a heavy sigh, Nitrogear held out his hands.

“I’d just...like to watch something on the monitor,” he muttered. “Beats staring up at the ceiling.”

“That’s better,” Roller stated as he carefully picked Nitrogear up.

Once again, Nitrogear wrapped his arms around Roller’s neck, peeking over the mech’s shoulder at the monitor. He could feel something in his right hip grind in protest, but Nitrogear managed to suppress the wince of pain. Reflexively clinging a little tighter when Roller stood up, Nitrogear glanced down at the floor and made a short noise of surprise.

“Said it before and I’m saying it again, you’re really, really tall,” Nitrogear murmured.

“Hope you’re not complaining,” Roller commented with a smirk. “Because it’s not exactly something I can do anything about.”

“Not complaining at all. Kind of nice to actually see what it’s like to be this tall,” Nitrogear stated, looking around.

“You okay to sit in that chair?” Roller inquired, eyeing the piece of furniture dubiously. “Looks like it stands a good chance of putting more pressure on that hip joint than it should have.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” Nitrogear countered, tilting his head. “Are you going to hold me while I watch the monitor?”

Pausing, Roller remained silent, as he didn’t really have an answer to the question other than ‘yes’. Nitrogear obviously noticed the pause, because he leaned back and gave Roller a look of dawning horror.

“I...I was just joking,” he stated, squirming around slightly in Roller’s hold. “You know that, right?”

“Well, it’s that or you lay on the chair.”

“I’ll lay on the chair. I’d like to keep intact whatever shreds of my dignity remain.”

Sighing and shaking his head, Roller carefully set Nitrogear down on the chair, helping keep him steady as he got situated. Noticing that Nitrogear winced and grimaced numerous times, Roller thought back to the painkillers that Syringe had prescribed.

Once Nitrogear appeared settled, Roller stood up straight and shrugged his shoulders, making a wince of his own. He’d pushed himself past what his injuries could afford when he retaliated against Nitrogear’s attacker, and now he was paying for it.

Even so, he kept quiet about it. No need for Nitrogear to know.

“All set?” Roller inquired.

“Yeah, as best as I can be,” Nitrogear answered, looking up at the larger mech. After a moment, he sighed and managed a half-grin. “Thanks for all this, you know? I know I keep throwing a fit about being helped, but...I do appreciate it.”

“About that…,” Roller stated, gritting his dentae against the pained tensity that gripped at his back as he leaned forward, bracing himself on the back of the chair. “Why do you have such a problem with accepting help, anyways? I can’t imagine that I’m the first guy to want to repay some of the help you’ve given me. But, you act like it’s a borderline crime for you to accept help of any sort. Even if you need it.”

Making a low hum of discontent as he wriggled around on the chair, Nitrogear crossed his arms and shrugged, glancing over at the monitor before back up at Roller. The larger mech just eyed him expectantly, waiting for the answer.

“Just...makes me feel useless,” Nitrogear explained slowly. “That I can’t help anybody if I’m just laid out on a recharge slab. Can’t patch up injuries, can’t get supplies, the whole lot. I mean, I can’t do anything else that’s helpful so-”

“Stop saying that.”

Though his voice was quiet, the sharpness in Roller’s tone stopped Nitrogear and he looked up at Roller. His expression was a mix of surprise with the faintest hints of apprehension, but when he saw just how crestfallen the larger mech looked, Nitrogear relaxed. Tilting his head to the side, optics studying Roller’s expression, Nitrogear carefully reached up and lightly tapped Roller’s forearm.

“Roller?”

The action was enough to lift Roller’s gaze, and he shifted his weight carefully before speaking.

“Not sure how many people you’ve helped that have been in straits similar to mine, but you help a lot more than just...than just running around, getting circuit speeders and paying others’ medical bills.”

“Well, yes,” Nitrogear agreed with a nod before reaching up to flick on the lights for his goggles. “I’m also useful when my circuit speeder dealer doesn’t have power to his place and can’t see all four walls of his home.”

“Nitro…,” Roller muttered with a shake of his head. “You’re more than… Look, you keep referring to yourself like you’re some sort of tool that is just on standby to be used whenever needed. That’s just...not the case, Nitro. You’ve been far more helpful than you’re giving yourself credit for, and you need to stop dismissing it so easily.”

“I don’t really follow,” Nitrogear replied with a shake of his head. “What else have I done that somebody else couldn’t do in my place?”

“Like who?”

“Umm...Syringe?”

“Give me a break,” Roller scoffed, looking somewhere between humored and horrified. “If he’d found me and even bothered to patch me up, having to spend half a day with that cantankerous ‘bot would have made me want to walk right back out to the scrapheap I’d been found in and await my demise.”

“I don’t think he’s that bad…,” Nitrogear murmured, looking away.

“Nitro, I’m willing to bet that guy would drive Primus himself to murder. At the very least, I’ve known drones that had more compassion and and better bedside manner than him. How he has stayed a medic, even in this place, is beyond me.”

Though he didn’t say anything, the fact that Nitrogear didn’t look up and was instead quickly twiddling his digits was answer enough.

“You actually seem to give a scrap about...the people you help. You ran headlong into a fight to help your buddy Blinker just a few minutes after admitting you couldn’t fight at all,” Roller continued, pointing down at Nitrogear. “And you’ve...you’ve kept pestering me when I was pretty content to just sit down and give up. Repeatedly. Not everybody does that, you know?”

“Well, just because not everybody does doesn’t mean I shouldn’t, right?”

“Exactly,” Roller replied pointedly. “You’re a lot more than you give yourself credit for, Nitro, and there’s nothing wrong with needing help for yourself every now and then. Just...try to keep that in mind, okay?”

Nitrogear looked at Roller for a long moment before the faintest hint of a smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth. Holding up his hands, Roller nodded knowingly.

“And yes, I say all that knowing full good and well you can use those words against me in the future.”

Again, Nitrogear said nothing, but he made a short, quiet laugh and nodded, his gaze dropping to his hands. He twiddled his digits again, this time slower, and looked over at the monitor.

“Thank you...Roller.”

“No problem, Nitro.”

* * *

“You know, all this screaming is completely unnecessary,” Flatline stated in a bored, almost irritated tone as he lazily looked over the circular saw blade. “Nobody can really hear you, and it’s incredibly annoying to have to hear you shriek your fool head off every other five seconds.”

Whether or not the mech, or rather, what was left, could actually still hear Flatline at this point, when the medic stepped aside to examine a few of the Energon stained tools on a portable tray, he still convulsed sharply against his restraints.

Turning, looking almost amused at the action, Flatline set down the saw blade and walked back over to the mech. Suspended by his wrists and ankles with a thick metal band securely fastened around his midsection, he had been stripped of half his outer armor and three quarters of his face was badly burned and mangled. Leaning down, Flatline hooked a digit under the victim’s chin, tilting his head to the side as his optics studied the damage from behind a set of large, dark-tinted glasses.

“Can you still hear me?” Flatline inquired, raising his voice slightly. “Ah...what was your name? Speedbump? Roadsign? Slagheap?”

“...t’s not...name…”

Frowning, Flatline patted the undamaged part of the mech’s face and went back to the tray, picking up a data pad and looking over it quickly while humming in thought. He could hear the mech make a distorted whimper, but Flatline dismissed it. Using his index digit to follow along the lines of data, Flatline finally shrugged and set the datapad back down.

“Well! Looks like my...employers were efficient. Congratulations! You no longer exist. How does that feel?”

The mech only weakly muttered something unintelligible while mech fluid dribbled past his twisted mouth. Looking perplexed, Flatline walked over and knelt down in front of the ‘bot, leaning forward so that he was barely a breath away from what was left of the mech’s face.

“Look at me,” Flatline ordered, his tone going cold. “I asked you a question, and it is very rude not to answer. Now then, how does it feel to know you no longer exist?”

Watching the mech’s face contort, Flatline sighed impatiently and patted the ‘bot’s face again. With a short lunge, the mech managed to spat a mouthful of Energon mech fluid across Flatline’s face. To his credit, Flatline only shuttered off his optics, staying still for a moment as he listened to the mech rasp out a laugh.

Slowly reaching up, Flatline slowly began to wipe away the fluid as he stood up. Turning, he walked back over to the tray of tools, looking over them as he continued to methodically wipe away the purple-hued fluid.

“You know, that was quite rude, as well,” Flatline commented, grimacing as he flicked away some of the viscous fluid from his digits. “I’m afraid I just can’t let that one slide. I was almost willing to let the question go, seeing as how you only have a fourth of your actual mouth left.”

Picking up a small cutting laser, flicking it on and off a couple times to ensure it was powered up, and a pair of pliers, Flatline looked back at the mech, who was watching him with wide, cracked optics. Striding over, Flatline grasped the mech’s right hand, looking at the digits closely and ignoring the mech’s increasingly panicked cries.

“But that little...outburst,” Flatline continued calmly. “Well, that I just cannot let slide, I’m afraid. So...let me see…”

Once again humming in thought, Flatline grabbed the index digit on the mech’s hand with the pliers, his grip intensifying suddenly to hold it still as the mech struggled to get it free. Activating the cutting laser, Flatline began to guide the softly humming beam down and through the middle of the digit, the first segment falling to the floor when the laser sliced through it and the joint.

“Now then, I’m sure by now you’re seeing the error in your ways.” Flatline had to practically shout to be heard over the ‘bot’s pained squeals and screams, but his tone remained utterly apathetic. “However, I need to ensure that I have made my point, and I fear that just one digit won’t do.”

With that, Flatline angrily batted away the ‘bot’s bleeding hand before grabbing the middle digit between the pliers. Reactivating the cutting laser, he hummed loudly as he slowly cut the digit in half, his gaze only flicking down to watch the segments clatter to the floor. Purple-hued mech fluid was pattering to the floor from the injuries, spatters of it spraying across Flatline’s armor each time his victim tried to jerk away.

Having successfully cut through the second digit, Flatline stepped back and tilted his head to the side, surveying his work. The ‘bot was convulsing in a mix of pain and fighting the urge to go offline, and a few mewled whimpers managed to escape his Energon soaked mouth. Shrugging, Flatline set the cutting laser and pliers back on the tray, tapping his chin in thought.

“I have to admit, you’re holding up a bit better than I anticipated. Nothing to write home about, mind you, but better than expected, nonetheless. You’re proving to be quite the little fount of information. I-” A knock at the door to Flatline’s operating room cut him off, and he narrowed his optics, turning to the door. “What is it?”

Mindsweep poked his head into the room and started to say something, but at the sight of Flatline’s handiwork, his features scrunched up in disgust.

“Ewwww!” he cried, recoiling back slightly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were playing with sharp objects again?! That’s gross!”

Looking at Mindsweep impassively, Flatline waited for the younger mech to finish his dramatics, tapping one pede impatiently. Still making a face, Mindsweep scooted into the operating room, eyeing the mech that was bound and bleeding dubiously.

“Is he even still alive?”

Without a word, Flatline reached over and prodded at one of the exposed wounds along the mech’s shoulder, eliciting a sudden cry of pain from the ‘bot...and a startled shriek of terror from Mindsweep, who promptly backpedaled and thudded against the wall. Glaring at Flatline with wide optics, Mindsweep jabbed a digit at the medic, who seemed none too threatened by the gesture.

“You could have just said ‘yes’ or ‘no’, you sick, sadomasochist!”

“Did you come here just to try my patience?” Flatline finally asked, taking slow, but purposeful strides towards Mindsweep. “If so, you’re doing quite well.”

“Don’t you dare touch me…!” Mindsweep hissed, shuffling along the wall away from Flatline. “Dreadnought will melt your insides and have you retching them up if you do anything to me.”

“Whoever said I was going to any sort of harm to you?” Flatline inquired, a cruel smirk playing on his features. “I’m simply asking why you interrupted my work.”

Cringing back against the wall, but keeping his crimson glare on Flatline, Mindsweep glanced over at the mutilated victim before back to the medic.

“Dreadnought just wanted to know if you were done getting the necessary parts.”

“Oh, yes,” Flatline replied, suddenly sounding far more cheerier. “That I have. I just need to clean them up and they should be ready. I’ve just been having a bit of...fun, is all.”

“...you’re not going to do more surgery, are you?”

Flatline simply raised a helm ridge, a very pleased grin spreading across his lips.

“Do you really want the answer to that?”

Looking as though he was going to be sick, Mindsweep shook his head and shuffled back along the wall, looking at Flatline’s victim before darting out the door, shutting it loudly behind him. He walked double-pace down the hallway back towards Dreadnought’s office, trying not to hear the screams that echoed from the surgery room. Shutting the door to the hallway behind him as well, Mindsweep turned the sharp corner and headed straight for the large door at the end. Once there, he knocked quickly on the door.

“Come in.”

Scrambling inside, Mindsweep shut the door behind him and made a beeline for Dreadnought, who was seated behind a large desk and appeared to be reading something with only mild interest. Green optics flicking up, he started to say something when he saw Mindsweep, but stopped when he saw the ‘bot’s expression.

“Did something happen?” Dreadnought inquired, setting aside what he was reading.

“Next time, you go talk to him,” Mindsweep muttered, stepping over to Dreadnought’s side and gripping the larger mech’s forearm. “He was in the middle of one of his...surgeries. I thought I was going to be sick.”

“Hmn,” Dreadnought hummed, looking over Mindsweep. He reached over with his free hand and calmly stroked along Mindsweep’s helm. “I’m sorry that it upset you so much. Had I known he was in the middle of such an endeavor, I wouldn’t have sent you.”

Making a short scoff, Mindsweep shuffled closer to Dreadnought, who obligingly scooted his chair back to give Mindsweep enough room to clamber up onto his lap. Once situated, Mindsweep sighed and rested his head against Dreadnought’s chassis, making an uncomfortable grumble.

“Is it really necessary to have him around? I know I ask this every time, but I’m pretty sure that we could find another medic just as willing to work for us. One that isn’t, you know, a sick-minded sadomasochist who enjoys performing unnecessary surgeries and goes to sleep at night to the screams of his victims.”

“While you may be right, Flatline is far more useful than just being a medic,” Dreadnought countered, continuing to stroke down along Mindsweep’s helm. “Besides, he knows far better than to do anything foolish.”

“Hmph…,” Mindsweep grumbled, shuttering his optics under Dreadnought’s touch. “He still gives me the creeps.”

“Very well,” Dreadnought replied, a knowing smile playing across his features. “I will speak to him next time.”

* * *

The lights clacking off started Nitrogear awake, though he quickly regretted the action as stabs of pain shot up from his right hip. Groaning and clutching at his injured side, Nitrogear looked around quickly, trying to sit up as much as he dared.

“Roller? Roller?”

“Right here, buddy.”

Looking up, Nitrogear saw Roller standing over him, optics glowing in the dim light. Making a short sigh of relief, Nitrogear relaxed back against the chair with another wince. He looked over at the monitor, which was droning on about some sort of newscast. Frowning, Nitrogear scoffed and shook his head.

“I keep dozing off,” he murmured, shifting his weight.

“Yeah, you clocked out pretty quickly after you got comfortable,” Roller commented. He then shrugged dismissively. “Doubt it’s a bad thing, though. Your systems could probably use all the rest and relaxation they can get at this point, so I wouldn’t think too much about it.”

“Yeah, but what if somebody breaks in…?” Nitrogear whined, squirming in the seat.

“Then they’re going to be conscious enough just long enough to regret it,” Roller replied, crossing his arms. “I’ll bet I could have them crumpled up and out the door before you even woke up.”

“Heh, still doing the bodyguard routine, huh?” Nitrogear asked, cautiously trying to sit up.

“Apparently so. And were you trying to get somewhere?”

“No. Not really, I guess. Just...resisting the urge to stand. I feel cooped up all curled up or laying down somewhere.”

“Well, keep resisting that urge, buddy,” Roller stated, uncrossing his arms and stepping between the monitor and the chair. “Come on, up you go.”

“Bleh,” Nitrogear replied, making a face.

“Yeah, yeah, your dignity is in shambles and pride destroyed,” Roller muttered, reaching down and carefully scooping Nitrogear up. Though all his joints gave warning aches of protest, Roller ignored it. He could hold out against the pain a bit longer. “I think, once you’ve recovered, somehow you will find a way to regain the both of them.”

“I am now resisting the urge to clonk you on the side of the head,” Nitrogear grumbled, wriggling around in Roller’s hold.

“I’m going to suggest you continue to resist that urge as well,” Roller answered, grinning. “Remember the whole ordeal I mentioned about kicking somebody down an alleyway?”

“You’d attack poor, little me?!” Nitrogear squeaked, leaning back from Roller as much as he safely could and feigning horror.

“That’s only if I could catch you.”

“But-but-but I’m injured! I’m wounded! Of course you’d catch me! Why would you do such a thing?!”

“Something about being clonked upside the head just isn’t that appealing to me, I’m afraid. Can’t say I’d be really appreciative of something like that,” Roller replied, his grin remaining. He then motioned to the door. “Come on, let’s go for a short walk. Should do you some good to get you out of here.”

Nitrogear stiffened reflexively and he leaned back enough so that he could look at Roller directly. Worry was already working its way on his features and he looked over at the door before back to Roller.

“But...it’s getting dark outside,” Nitrogear argued slowly.

“I highly doubt anybody’s going to give us any trouble,” Roller countered, rolling his optics. “Besides, you were just saying how you were feeling cooped up. Getting outside should help get rid of that. Then we’ll get you back inside, dope you up on a few painkillers, and you can probably get in another recharge cycle.”

“Yeah, but...that’s outside.”

“I promise I won’t let the big, bad outside kidnap you and cart you off,” Roller chuckled, striding over to the door. “Just for a few minutes then, alright?”

Frowning, Nitrogear looked over his shoulder at the door, then back to Roller before he finally leaned back against the larger mech. He wriggled around, working to get comfortable, feeling his right hip once again give  a twinge of pained protest. Gripping at Roller’s shoulder, waiting on the pain to subside, Nitrogear finally nodded his head.

“Okay, just...just a few minutes. But if somebody sees us…?”

“We’ll get back inside, then, if necessary,” Roller replied, opening the door. He flashed Nitrogear a quick grin. “What? Don’t want to be seen with some second-rate Point One Percenter former cop?”

Nitrogear frowned and doubled up his fist before lightly hitting Roller’s shoulder.

“Stop it,” he ordered grumpily.

“Hey, we are now in an alleyway,” Roller said, making sure the door shut and locked behind them as he stepped outside. Able to cradle Nitrogear with one arm, he used his free hand to point down the alleyway. “I can and will give you a flying lesson down it if you continue to assault your bodyguard.”

“I will only cease and desist if said bodyguard stops talking bad about himself,” Nitrogear replied, making a short scoff and sticking his nose up for the moment.

“Alright, alright,” Roller conceded, shifting his weight. Both legs felt heavier than they should have, and his shoulder felt strained, even under the light burden of Nitrogear. Again, though, he ignored the discomfort, looking up at the darkened skies instead. “See? Not so bad, huh?”

Lifting his gaze, Nitrogear narrowed his optics slightly and looked around the skies, then sighed and nodded his head.

“Yeah. Not as bad as I thought, I guess,” he murmured, his gaze never leaving the sky.

 


	8. Found Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still haunted by the question of "Why?", Roller finds his thoughts unrelenting. Though still bedridden, Nitrogear attempts to keep Roller from completely succumbing to his suspicions.

Eyeing Nitrogear as the mech slowly drank the allocated amount of the liquid that Syringe had prescribed, Roller shifted his weight uncomfortably. His joints were feeling stiffer with each passing hour, but, fortunately, Nitrogear didn’t appear to notice. The smaller ‘bot was seated on the recharge slab, leaning up against the wall, carefully rolling his legs back and forth via the wheels on the back of them. Grimacing, he finished off the last mouthful of the liquid before handing the container back to Roller with a sigh.

“Taste that great, huh?” Roller inquired, taking the vial, careful not to crush it in his hand.

“Yeah. Delicious,” Nitrogear croaked, coughing. He sighed and slumped against the wall, gazing falling down to his hands.

“Tired?”

“Just tired of being maimed and unable to walk.” Optics flicking up to Roller, Nitrogear gave the larger mech a weak look. “Syringe said for sure I’d be able to walk again?”

“He did, yeah.” Noticing Nitrogear’s rather despondent look, Roller shook his head and set the vial aside for the moment. He felt like he was about to crush it at any moment just holding it in his hand. “Relax, Nitro. Pretty sure Syringe knows his stuff, except for how to actually be nice to a patient and say something without it being a sarcastic barb.”

Managing a weak laugh, Nitrogear nodded his head and twiddled his black digits slowly, the dim light reflecting off the dull sheen of the muted orange color on his helm. Every now and then, the light would catch the chrome streak down the middle, making a glint, but for the most part, there was just the faint, orange glow. More worrisome was the fact that the three, normally bright yellow biolights that were evenly spaced along his chassis had dimmed.

“Come on, Nitro, you’ll be fine,” Roller stated, feigning as much confidence as he could muster. He was pretty sure that his bedside manner left almost as much to be desired as Syringe’s did, but he was at least going to try. “Worse comes to worse, we’ll get Syringe to just move those wheels so that they’re your new feet and you can skate around the place.”

“I’d crash into every wall I came across,” Nitrogear laughed, slightly lifting his left leg to inspect the thin, thick-treaded wheel. “I’d need a new set of wheels just to be training wheels. Or for you to drive me around.”

“If we’re going that route, then I might as well just delegate myself as your personal transportation. You wouldn’t even have to lift a pede and you’d get some of the safest transportation around available. ...the alleyways may be a little tricky with my alt mode, though.”

“Oh yeah?” Nitrogear inquired, grinning. He looked over Roller quickly, noting the massive treads on the mech’s shoulders and heavy armor. “Just how big is your alt mode? What is it, for that matter?”

“I can-er, used to, transport prisoners. In other words, big enough to not fit in this room without wrecking something.”

Laughing again in response, Nitrogear nodded and held up his hands in wordless defeat.

“Alright, yeah...let’s avoid giving my place a new doorway.”

Grinning when he heard Nitrogear laugh, Roller looked over the smaller mech, who appeared to be fast losing a fight against a recharge. Nitrogear’s optics would intermittently shutter and already his posture was drooping.

“Might want to lay back before you fall over, buddy,” Roller commented, quirking a helm ridge knowingly. “Guessing that stuff hits about as hard as it tastes, huh?”

With a heavy sigh, Nitrogear glanced over at the recharge slab, then reluctantly nodded, scooting around so that he could lay back. Leaning forward, Roller braced Nitrogear, watching as the smaller ‘bot attempted to and failed to hide a wince of pain as he lay back on the recharge slab. Though he said nothing, there was no denying that Nitrogear knew Roller had seen the wince. The moment he was relaxed against the slab, Nitrogear looked away quickly, looking rather humiliated over the whole ordeal.

“Alright, rest up and you should feel better once you wake up,” Roller instructed, standing up from the recharge slab. “And Syringe said that liquid, whatever it is, should help get things fixed up a bit faster.”

“Yeah...here’s hoping,” Nitrogear murmured, optics already starting to shutter off. “Thanks, Roller.”

“No problem.”

Waiting until Nitrogear had gone still, recharge cycle apparently kicking in, Roller looked over the smaller mech, cerulean optics tracing over the armor outlines and the various dents and scratches that it sported. Funnily enough, for as much time as they’d had to spend together, Roller hadn’t ever really given Nitrogear a second look. Now, though…

Nitrogear’s pale face was still, the faintest hints of what looked to be a small scar on the left side of his chin. Fortunately, Nitrogear’s biolights on the ‘bot’s dull orange chassis appeared to be glowing a bit brighter, as well as the small, red-glowing “L” shaped markings under what Roller assumed were the headlights of Nitrogear’s alt mode. The chrome plating of Nitrogear’s midsection was mottled with a variety of scrapes, dents, and scuffs. Most of which appeared to have been crudely polished away.

There were two, curved pieces of armor that guarded Nitrogear’s hips, but even with the work that Syringe had done, Roller could see the difference in the way the right one was angled differently than its counterpart. The same, chrome colored armor was plated along Nitrogear’s thighs, though it quickly gave way to dull orange knee joint covers. Both of Nitrogear’s lower legs, sporting the dull orange color, were notably larger in order to provide protection for the mech’s pedes and to house the wheels of his alt mode.

It almost felt surreal to see such light, almost flimsy appearing, armor in contrast to his own, heavy armor, particularly when it seemed that Nitrogear’s armor had done nothing to mitigate the damage that had been inflicted on him.

Shaking his head quickly to get out of his thoughts, Roller walked over to the shelves, his gait housing the slightest hint of a limp. Looking over the datapads that were stacked on the shelves, Roller read over the titles. He was rather surprised to see that most of them dealt with either space travel or were space odyssey fiction novels. There were a couple drama novels that Roller had heard of before, and, not surprisingly, a first aid guide for beginner’s.

Opting for one of the drama novels, Roller set the others aside and limped over to the chair. Grimacing as he sat down, hearing his left knee joint grind angrily in response, Roller bit back the pain and relaxed against the chair. Giving himself a few moments to work through the stabs at his knee, Roller flexed the joint slowly, trying to gauge the damage extent. From what he could tell, he had hyperextended the joint, and given the rest of his injuries that had been re-aggravated, it was going to be a long time before Roller was fully functional.

Sighing heavily as the datapad flickered on, Roller tried to dismiss the negative thoughts that were already snaking their way through his mind, but…

...no wonder he’d been left behind. He couldn’t even keep one paranoid ‘bot safe from a couple thugs. How in the name of the Matrix was he supposed to be trusted with something as important as defending a hot spot? Or one of his friends’ lives from Elite Guard?

Gritting his dentae, Roller tried to focus on the words on the datapad, but they were blurred and made utterly no sense at the moment. All he could think about was the pain and humiliation gripping at his body and scraping at his spark. His damned, sea green spark. The entire idea of him being born stronger was such a sick joke that if it didn’t leave him, and more importantly those around him, in such dire straits, Roller might have laughed at the whole, slagging thing.

But there was nothing funny about failing to keep those safe that had entrusted him to do so. To have their backs through the thick of things. To fail to uphold the cause that one was-

The sound of glass cracking snapped Roller out of his thoughts and he looked down quickly. To his dismay, there was a spider web of cracks racing from where his thumb had shattered the glass of the datapad, the holographic words fluttering and distorting in response.

“Damn it,” Roller sighed, letting the datapad rest on his thigh as he leaned forward and rested his forehelm against the digit tips of his other hand. He’d have to apologize to Nitrogear once the mech woke up and hope that Nitrogear was the forgiving type, since Roller couldn’t even replace the damn thing. ...not unless he was going to steal a new copy from somewhere.

Making a short scoff, Roller managed a bitter, half-grin down at the now broken datapad. Well, if there was one thing he was good at, it was abusing the patience and hospitality of others.

* * *

Not bothering with knocking, Dreadnought strode through the door to Flatline’s operating room. The acrid smell of melted metal, burnt Energon, and heated glass struck his senses, and Dreadnought flickered his green optics quickly, giving himself a moment. Across the room, Flatline was humming cheerily to himself, working on what Dreadnought assumed was another of his pet projects. In the middle of the room was the remains of Flatline’s subject, still in the bonds...and they were tattered, ragged remains at that.

Glancing over at Flatline, who was either oblivious or indifferent to Dreadnought’s arrival, the mech stepped closer to the remains, studying them. Scorch marks ran all over the protoform, and when he leaned to the right, Dreadnought could see two of the digits had been sliced in half...lengthwise. Flatline must have lost his patience somewhere during the procedure. The outer armor itself, though, appeared to have been removed carefully...up until the surgery marks reached the mech’s midsection.

There, the surgical marks seemed to disappear altogether and give way to the armor being ripped off by force. Past that, the surgical marks returned with their careful, clean precision, and they were almost invisible on the protoform’s face. Or, at least, what remained of it.

“Interesting manner on handling the midsection armor,” Dreadnought commented, disgust appearing to work its way on his features. “Did you use your hands or pliers?”

“Pliers,” Flatline replied, turning around. The faint, violet color of Energon was splattered all across his armor, save for the grey-tinted glasses that covered his optics. “It would have been a bit awkward to try and use my hands.”

Standing up straight, Dreadnought strode across the room to Flatline, mindful to try and avoid stepping in the pools of Energon that dotted the floor. Resisting the urge to cringe when he did feel some of it seep up against his pedes, Dreadnought stood in front of Flatline, looking down at both the surgeon and the pile of outer armor that was in the middle of being scrubbed and filed clean.

Looking up at Dreadnought, Flatline set aside the piece of armor he’d been cleaning and glanced over the mech quickly. Dreadnought was massive in size, larger than most mechs that Flatline knew, and given the fact that half of his armor curved up into a sharp point, it made Dreadnought’s presence all the more imposing. The only comfort that Flatline could take in the moment was that Dreadnought appeared to be pleased with the progress being made...along with the fact that it would have been difficult to find another medic.

Dreadnought’s gaze, though, quickly flicked from Flatline to the stack of armor, and the mech tilted his head to the side, light gleaming off the polished, silver color of his helm.

“I’m going to assume that cutting the digits was more for entertainment?”

“Stress relief.”

“Interesting method of doing so,” Dreadnought commented, looking over his shoulder at the dead ‘bot. “Although, I have heard that surgery is a very stressful ordeal, so perhaps it was necessary. All the parts were successfully removed?”

“That they were,” Flatline answered, turning back to the table to avoid a crick in his neck from forming. “Shall I dispose of them or…?”

“Do with them what you wish. I have no need of them.”

“Thank you.”

Immediately beginning to scoop up the parts and carefully stack them, Flatline expected Dreadnought to leave, having been satisfied with Flatline’s handiwork. Instead, though, there was silence...and Dreadnought’s hand lightly rest on Flatline’s shoulder, digit tips slowly curling around like talons. His insides reflexively went cold, and Flatline stopped in mid-action, trying to keep his gaze steady.

“One last thing,” Dreadnought said, his voice dropping low as he leaned down. “What have I told you about upsetting Mindsweep?”

Though his initial response was to feign ignorance about the whole ordeal, Flatline knew better. That would have only served to anger Dreadnought further, and that was the last thing that Flatline wanted right now. Gritting his dentae as he felt Dreadnought’s grip increase, Flatline tilted his head slightly to indicate he had heard Dreadnought.

“I...apologize, sir,” he answered, hoping his voice didn’t betray him. “I was unaware that the surgery would...upset him.”

“Now, now, you know that Mindsweep has a rather delicate mind when it comes to things such as that.” Dreadnought suddenly lunged forward, his face close enough to the side of Flatline’s helm that the medic swore he could practically feel Dreadnought’s dentae graze against the armor. “And you most definitely know better than to intimidate him!”

“Yes, sir,” Flatline answered quickly, nodding his head as he felt Dreadnought’s digits grip his armor to the point it creaked threateningly. “It will not happen again.”

In an instant, Dreadnought’s demeanor changed, and he smiled and stood up, patting Flatline’s shoulder.

“Very good. Glad we had this talk.” Turning, Dreadnought made his way to the room exit, pausing or a moment. “Oh, and one other thing, do try to keep your patient a bit quieter next time, if you would. I could hear him screaming all the way in my office.”

* * *

Somebody was talking.

Nitrogear’s optics snapped online at the sounds and he started to sit up, but pain immediately pulled him back down. Grimacing, he gritted his dentae and sat up slowly, turning his gaze to the sound of the voice. It was Roller, but his voice… His voice was low, and rumbling whisper as he murmured words that Nitrogear couldn’t make out. But there was the unmistakable sound of pain in his voice as well, tensing each sentence tightly.

Alarmed, worried that Roller may have hurt himself again, Nitrogear quickly shoved himself off the recharge slab. Stabs of warning pain shot up through his right leg, quickly followed by waves of a dull ache in his left shoulder, jaw, and chassis. Ignoring them, Nitrogear limped over to Roller, slowing when he got closer. Even if Roller didn’t mean to, if he jerked awake and lashed out reflexively, well...well he could really hurt Nitrogear.

“Roller?” Nitrogear whispered, hobbling around the chair slowly as he stepped in front of the larger mech.

Hunched over, obviously in a low power state, Roller was resting his elbows on his knees, still murmuring bits and pieces of sentences.

“...gone…”

His pede hit an empty box of Kremzeek and Nitrogear glanced down, quickly realizing that Roller must have drank the rest of them. ...along with all of the circuit speeders available. Wincing, Nitrogear lifted his gaze and shifted his weight, having to support himself completely on his left leg.

“Roller?” Nitrogear repeated, raising his voice slightly. “Roller, wake up.”

“...left...why…?”

Bracing himself, Nitrogear reached out and lightly touched the top of Roller’s helm.

“Roller. Wake up.” Nitrogear gently nudged Roller’s helm. “Roller, you’re having another bad dream. Wake up.”

Surprisingly, Roller lifted his head slowly, and Nitrogear saw the first few droplets of mech fluid drip from the scarring on the left side of Roller’s face. He frowned in concern and reached forward to try and carefully wipe away the fluid. Stopping in surprise when he realized the fluid wasn’t mech fluid, Nitrogear withdrew his hand as Roller’s defeated, somber gaze locked with his.

“Roller?” Nitrogear whispered, stepping forward. “Roller, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

The faintest sliver of a bitter smile crossed across Roller’s expression and he slowly shook his head, gaze falling again. Still worried but not wanting to upset Roller, and not really able to move as fast as he wanted, Nitrogear reached out, digit tips hovering over Roller’s helm.

“Roller, is it okay if I touch you?” Nitrogear inquired, venturing a small smile. “You’re...kind of scaring me here, big guy.”

With a soft grunt, Roller reached up and grasped Nitrogear’s hand, setting it on the side of his helm wordlessly and carefully tugging Nitrogear closer. Nitrogear shuffled forward, making a quiet noise of surprise when Roller rested his forehelm lightly against his midsection, his other hand grasping Nitrogear’s wrist lightly. His hand clutched loosely at the back of Roller’s helm, and Nitrogear tried to quickly look over the other mech for possible injuries...even if he was already fairly certain there weren’t any. Roller’s pain wasn’t physical.

“Roller? Can you talk?”

“...can. Don’t really want to right now.”

“Okay, okay,” Nitrogear replied, nodding, even though Roller couldn’t see him at the moment. “Just...take your time then, yeah?”

Roller just made a short noise of acknowledgment, still clutching loosely at Nitrogear’s wrist. Very slowly and carefully, Nitrogear shakily stroked along Roller’s helm, trying to somehow wordlessly reassure him. If what Roller had been muttering in his sleep was any indication of what was wrong, Nitrogear could only imagine the thoughts were eating at him. The excessive Kremzeek, particularly mixed with circuit speeders, couldn’t be helping Roller’s thoughts in the least, and there was still a very small part of Nitrogear that was afraid the larger mech may still reflexively lash out.

“...I just...can’t, Nitro,” Roller finally murmured, his voice creaking.

“Can’t what?”

“I can’t figure out why...and I can’t get that-that damn, nagging question out of my head, either.” Roller made a bitter laugh before continuing, his gaze still down. His thoughts were swimming in a sickening mess by this point, and even trying to start a sentence was a chore. “Can’t force it away. Couldn’t even drown it in Kremzeek. The not knowing is crippling me, Nitro. Making me weaker than I thought possible, which is...a stretch.”

“Can I ask how knowing would make it any better?”

“...because then I could fix it. I’m not near as strong as the others on my team, heh, former team, but...I could at least try to fix it to carry my own weight.”

“Roller, I-I really don’t think they left you on purpose,” Nitrogear countered quietly.

“I remember more now, Nitro. They tried to search for me for all of about five minutes, and then...then they just forgot about me. Their voices were faint, but I don’t think they even remembered my name.” Roller finally lifted his head, looking up at Nitrogear. “Can’t say I really blame them after the foul ups I had.”

“Come on, stop it,” Nitrogear stated, voice quiet but firm. “I doubt that they were that bad, you-”

“Nitro, you weren’t there,” Roller interrupted, shaking his head and promptly regretting the action. The mix of Kremzeek and circuit speeders felt like it was making his insides slosh around, and part of him wondered if he’d actually managed to somehow melt something internally. “We lost the guy we were trying to save because of me! I got taken as a damn hostage and the guy had to give himself up because I couldn’t even save myself! We went to try and save somebody and I ended up being the one whose aft had to get pulled out of the fire! The supposed, almighty point one percenter! So far, my only outstanding ability has been to drag everybody else down, Nitro!”

The lights overhead flickered, but Nitrogear paid it little heed. While he wasn’t exactly keen on the lights clicking off now of all times, the fact that Roller was starting to raise his voice and sounding more and more agitated was unnerving him. He was too close to move away, and even if he tried, Roller had a grip on his wrist that was slowly but surely intensifying. There was no way that-

“And...I’m scaring you again, aren’t I?” Roller asked in defeat, his hand falling from Nitrogear’s wrist.

That certainly wasn’t a question Nitrogear had expected, and he froze, trembling hand hovering over Roller’s helm. The larger mech gave him a weak smile before shaking his head and slowly sitting up a bit straighter. Nitrogear’s digit tips brushed against the side of Roller’s helm as he did so, and Nitrogear looked up at Roller in concern.

“Roller, I’m just-”

“Aren’t I?”

Even though his frame trembled, Nitrogear gave Roller a worried and frustrated look as he clenched his fists and stood up as straight as he could manage.

“Well, if you’d let me finish my sentence, you might find out,” Nitrogear laughed with a tilt of his head.

“Heh, sorry…”

Calming himself before he spoke, Nitrogear relaxed his posture a little, ignoring the fact that by now, his right hip was practically begging him to sit or lay down. It felt like somebody had stuck the business end of a cutting torch against it and was slowly amping up the heat.

“I...no, no you do not scare me, Roller,” Nitrogear finally answered. “You haven’t given me a reason to be afraid of you. You’ve given me a couple reasons I want to clonk you upside your thick head, but not to fear you.”

“Oh yeah?” Roller countered, smirking faintly. “Two seconds ago you were saying I was scaring you and you’re still trembling.”

“You do know that I can worry about you and that when I’m worried, I’m not exactly the most verbally graceful of people. I thought you were hurt or had overdone it on the Kremzeek.”

“Well, you may be right on the Kremzeek,” Roller muttered, making a quick face of disgust. He then fell silent for a long moment, finally lifting his gaze to Nitrogear’s. “...but you were...really worried?”

“Of course I was! ...uh, whether you like it or not, I’ve...kind of come to think of you as my friend, Roller.”

Again, Roller was silent, his optics flicking over Nitrogear’s expression quickly. Under any other circumstances, Roller might have laughed at the idea. A little runt of a circuit speeder addict who was scared of his own shadow was calling him a friend? However...this was the same circuit speeder addict that had gotten Roller out of the scrap heap he’d been left to die in. The same circuit speeder addict that had put up with Roller’s lack of patience and gratitude with little more than a shrug and a grin. The same circuit speeder addict that still, whether out of foolishness or optimism, felt that he could count on Roller. ...the same circuit speeder that had stayed with Roller, even if it was for an admittedly short amount of time, and had yet to ask for anything in return.

“Friends, huh?” Roller repeated, giving Nitrogear the faintest of incredulous grins.

“Well, I mean...you don’t have to be mine,” Nitrogear quickly said, trying to verbally backpedal. His gaze fell to the floor and he quickly began twiddling his digits. “I was just...um...just-just kind of running my mouth. I’m-I’m good at that. Kind of the only thing I-”

“Yeah, we’re friends, Nitrogear,” Roller interjected softly.

Stopping mid-sentence, Nitrogear looked up at Roller in surprise, his optics shuttering quickly.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Heh, if I’m going to be totally honest, you’re probably one of the few friends I’ve got left,” Roller explained, shifting his weight in the chair. “You’ve stood by me through-”

Realization finally hit and Roller gave Nitrogear an alarmed look.

“What? What is it?” Nitrogear asked, looking around quickly.

“Dammit, Nitro,” Roller murmured, rising from the chair and picking up Nitrogear in one, swift movement. He ignored the stabs of pain that shot through his frame...and Nitrogear’s short, alarmed yelp as the smaller ‘bot’s arms wrapped around his neck as tight as Nitrogear could muster.

He hadn’t expected Roller to move so quickly, so when the larger mech lunged forward and scooped him up effortlessly, Nitrogear had instinctively tried to move back. Fortunately, Roller had caught him before he could put any weight on his right hip, but the initial surprise was there. Nitrogear reflexively clung to Roller’s neck, digits trying to grab at any edge on the ‘bot’s armor that they could find.

As his initial shock began to wear off, Nitrogear looked down slowly with wide optics. To his credit, Roller had a secure hold on him and was standing very still. Even as Nitrogear dared to wriggle around slightly to try and make himself a bit more comfortable, Roller didn’t move. Mostly because Nitrogear had his face practically in the crook of Roller’s neck, the top of the smaller ‘bot’s helm pressing up against his chin.

“Uh, Nitro?”

“Yeah?”

He looked up without thinking, and Nitrogear’s helm scraped along Roller’s jawline before his nose struck Roller’s chin.

“Ow!” Nitrogear cried, quickly ducking his head, features scrunching up. “Ow, ow, ow!”

“Nitro, I can’t look down,” Roller said apologetically. “Are you okay?”

“I just smashed my nose,” Nitrogear whined through a chuckle. “And I think I hit your chin with my head.”

“Trust me, buddy, I’m fine.” Roller was starting to feel a little awkward having to stare up at the ceiling, but as of right now, Nitrogear hadn’t moved, which kept his head craned up at an angle. “You...think you could maybe move your head back a little, though?”

Though he obliged, Nitrogear’s features were still contorted as he used a hand to gingerly touch along the bridge of his nose. Finally able to drop his gaze, Roller looked over Nitrogear’s features quickly. There didn’t appear to be any real damage, but Roller wasn’t about to say anything. He’d once cracked his forehelm so hard against another’s that they’d been out for hours and couldn’t remember their name for days.

“I think I’m okay,” Nitrogear finally stated, rubbing his nose with a wince. “Just looked up too fast.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Roller muttered, glancing away. He then fixed Nitrogear with a look of both exasperation and irritation. “Now then, what the hell were you thinking walking around with your hip still out of whack?”

“You sounded like you were hurt,” Nitrogear countered, shrugging. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Throw something at me,” Roller answered quickly and flatly.

Stopping, optics shuttering as Nitrogear processed what Roller had said, he then used one hand to motion around the room.

“Please, show me which of my many, bountiful possessions would have been aerodynamic and light enough to both make it from the recharge slab to the chair, as well as not hurt you.”

His expression immediately going deadpan, Roller stared at Nitrogear, obviously unamused. To his credit, Nitrogear continued to favor him with an expectant look, letting his arm fall to his side. Finally, Roller shifted his weight before speaking.

“If you weren’t injured, I would drop you like a stack of Energon cubes.”

Feigning a hurt look, Nitrogear looked away.

“Come on, Nitro,” Roller murmured, his tone firm but quiet. “You know you’re not supposed to put any weight on your hip joint. What happens if you manage to really break something and make it worse?”

“You know I’m going to use that question against you in the future.”

“Answer the question...please.”

“...well…,” Nitrogear muttered, shifting around in Roller’s hold. After a few minutes of humming and muttering under his breath, he looked up at Roller with a defeated look. “I...really thought you were hurt, Roller. I just couldn’t...lay there and risk you being injured and do nothing.”

Studying Nitrogear for a long stretch of silence, Roller finally sighed and shook his head slightly.

“Look, I can handle whatever injuries I’ve got. May be scarred up, but wasn’t really much of a looker to begin with. I may not be outstanding, but I can at least make sure you don’t get hurt any further, alright?”

“One of these days, I’m going to make you go an entire day without putting yourself down,” Nitrogear muttered, gaze falling.

“Alright?”

After a few moments, a small smile spread across Nitrogear’s features and he looked back up at Roller.

“Alright, alright. You win...for now.”

“Is it enough of a victory you want to go back to the recharge slab?”

Hesitating, Nitrogear looked away, looking somewhat conflicted at the idea. Making a short laugh, Roller shifted his weight and shrugged, trying to get Nitrogear’s attention. It worked, but Nitrogear still didn’t answer, and instead gave Roller a sheepish, sidelong look.

“Nitro…?”

“Maybe in just...a few more minutes?”

“That much of a wait just for that?” Roller chuckled with a shake of his head. “Yeah, we can wait a few minutes.”


	9. Future Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Nitrogear's injuries recover, Roller begins to mull over plans to eventually leave to try and find answers, but that now, things are a bit more complicated than he anticipated.

“I...didn’t think the story was that bad.”

The statement had made Roller freeze. He’d been so busy cleaning up the mess of empty circuit speeder capsules and Kremzeek boxes that the destroyed datapad had completely slipped his mind.

Standing up, Roller looked down at Nitrogear, who was looking over the shattered datapad. There was a confused, almost hurt, look on Nitrogear’s expression as he turned the datapad over, the small mech jumping slightly as a few more shards of glass fell to the floor. Sighing heavily, Roller stepped over, mentally grateful that Nitrogear didn’t flinch away, and held out his hand.

“I...kind of forgot how...strong I am,” Roller muttered in embarrassment.

Looking up at Roller, now appearing more confused, Nitrogear carefully set the datapad into Roller’s waiting hand.

“I’ll get you a new copy,” Roller promised, carefully taking the shattered datapad.

“Eh, it’s alright,” Nitrogear replied with a shake of his head, shifting his weight carefully. “It’s a pretty cheap book, anyways. Not like a priceless heirloom or anything.”

“Cheap or not, I don’t get a pass for breaking your stuff,” Roller argued, setting the broken datapad in the wastebin he was tossing the rest of the trash into. He paused and looked over Nitrogear, who was standing still and looking around the room. “How’s your leg?”

“Huh? Oh, it’s fine. Sore, but fine.”

Though he didn’t completely believe Nitrogear, Roller sighed slightly and nodded, returning to the task at hand. It had taken a long argument, but, after Nitrogear had solemnly promised not to walk around, Roller had given in and agreed to let the smaller mech stand. While he was fairly certain that Syringe would have clobbered him for this, Nitrogear had been able to tap into what sympathy Roller had left. So now, the yellow-opticed mech was standing in the middle of the room, watching as Roller cleaned up the mess he’d managed to make the night before.

Turning to the monitor, Nitrogear hummed and tried to lean forward slightly on his left side, reaching for the monitor controls. His digits quickly clawed the air, and when he realized he was getting nowhere, Nitrogear leaned a bit further, his right pede starting to slowly rise off the floor.

“I can see that,” Roller stated loudly, turning to face Nitrogear again.

Quickly returning to a standing position, Nitrogear glanced away, trying to feign innocence. Roller just laughed shortly and crossed his arms.

“You really think the innocent optic look is going to fool me?”

“Well, I could try the flirting approach, but I think that’d probably get me punched in the face.”

“Aw, come on, Nitro, I wouldn’t punch you in the face for that.”

“Really?”

“Nah, just arrest you for indecent actions towards a law enforcer, is all.”

“Fun times all around! And here I was just trying to show affection!” Nitrogear cried, throwing his hands up. The action was promptly regretted when a stab of pain shot down his left arm and to his shoulder, and Nitrogear winced and dropped his arm, clutching at it with his free hand. “Ow…”

“Hey, easy on the sudden movements,” Roller said, stepping over to Nitrogear. “You alright?”

“Yeah, sorry. I kind of forgot about the other injuries...just kind of focused on my right side.”

“Bet that was a pretty painful reminder, huh?”

“You could say that,” Nitrogear whined, rolling his shoulder gingerly. He then frowned and looked up at Roller. “And what about you, big guy? I know you’ve been hurting off and on.”

“Eh, I’ll be fine. Just a bunch of stubborn aches that won’t go away.”

“Think we should get Syringe to help show them the proverbial door?”

“I’ll just die, thank you,” Roller countered with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Primus above, Roller,” Nitrogear laughed, shifting his weight. “Syringe isn’t that bad! Yes, he’s kind of rough on the edges-”

“And the inside, and the outside, and I’m pretty sure he’s got some sort of psychic ability to hone in on his victim’s last nerve.”

“You know, one of these days, you may just need his help and you’re going to feel really silly that you said these things about him.”

The larger mech just laughed and quirked a helm ridge at Nitrogear, looking quite amused by the idea. He crossed his arms and looked down at Nitrogear, who tried to mimic the action as safely as he could.

“I don’t care if it’s tomorrow or millions of years from now,” Roller stated. “If, for whatever unforeseen reason, I ever need that medic’s help, I’ll tell him straight to his face exactly what I think about him. ...and what he can do with that attitude of his, too.”

“You’re a real people person, aren’t you?”

“Borderline infamous,” Roller answered with a grin. He then motioned to the monitor with a slight jerk of his head. “Now, what were you trying to do with the monitor there, buddy?”

“Trying to turn it on.”

“Getting tired of standing?” Roller inquired as he flicked on the monitor.

“A little. It’s kind of tougher than it looks; having to stand here and not be able to actually walk around.”

“Yeah, been there, done that, and it really is tougher than one would think.” Roller glanced over to the chair. “You want to sit down, instead?”

“Please?” Nitrogear asked, holding out his hands.

Wordlessly, Roller hoisted up Nitrogear, carefully setting him back down on the chair. As he had the last couple of times, Roller noticed that Nitrogear didn’t wince or seem to be in pain when he was moved around. It was a contrast to before, where it would take a couple minutes of very careful wriggling around to get comfortable.

“Thanks, Roller,” Nitrogear stated, scooting back on the chair slightly.

“No problem,” Roller answered, already turning his attention back to the waste bin. “So...where do you drop these things off? Just outside, or…?”

“Usually take them to the main recycling center around here. It’s kind of a trek, but you can get a few shanix for the recyclable stuff.”

“And nobody’s going to be suspicious about the copious amount of circuit speeder capsules?”

“Pretty sure they’ll be more focused on the fact that the capsules are easily melted down. Besides, they know me and my, uh...problem.” Nitrogear’s gaze quickly fell and he twiddled his digits nervously. “Don’t think they’ll give me any flak over it.”

“Well, I think it’s fair to say it’s our problem,” Roller replied, moving the waste bin so that it was out of the way and by the door. “Don’t give yourself all the credit.”

“Heh...right.”

There was a long stretch of silence, and Nitrogear looked up. Even though his gaze was on the monitor, Roller could see the uncomfortable look that was working its way across the other mech’s features. Making a short chuckle and half-grin of knowing, Roller walked over and lightly kicked the chair to get Nitrogear’s attention.

It worked, and Nitrogear jumped slightly with a short cry, leaning over to look at the side of the chair, then up at Roller, who was already laughing.

“What did you think caused that?” he asked. “Giant house pests?”

Nitrogear started to say something, but stopped. His optics widened as his hand slowly began rising so he could point at Roller, and a very sly grin formed on his features before being followed by a snicker. Roller’s expression promptly changed to a deadpan one, and he narrowed his cerulean optics and pointed back at Nitrogear.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“But you said-”

“I know what I said, Nitro. Don’t you dare say it.”

“But...you walked right into that.”

“I know that,” Roller stated firmly, fighting the urge to smile. “But that doesn’t mean you have to snipe me for it.”

“But-but-!” Nitrogear made a whine and pointed emphatically at Roller. “You could be the-”

“Nitro…”

“The giant-”

“I mean it.”

“The giant house pest!” Nitrogear cried, laughing and collapsing against the chair, still pointing at Roller. “You’re the giant house pest! That’s your new nickname! Giant house pest!”

Roller made a long sigh and gave Nitrogear, who was still in fits of laughter, an exasperated frown...even as he began to lose the fight against smiling. Finally, he shook his head and laughed quietly, holding up his hands in mock defeat.

“Alright, alright...you win, runt. I walked right into that one and you would have been pretty thick-headed to not take the opportunity.”

Snickering and giving Roller the best apologetic look he could muster, Nitrogear finally let his hand fall and he lightly kicked his left foot as the last of his laughter shuddered from his frame. Sighing, though quite aware of the half grin that had tugged up a corner of his mouth, Roller looked over the makeshift chair, then back to the monitor.

“So...what are we watching, exactly?”

“Not sure. I thought it was a rerun of that one drama show, but then it got interrupted with this news bulletin.”

“Ugh, I hated those,” Roller grumbled, leaning against the chair and focusing on the monitor. He noted that his left optic was regaining clarity much better along with being able to focus faster. “Always put us on high alert every time one of those came out, and half the time they were for some asinine reason. Hate to break it to them, but we don’t care if they’ve spotted someone on the transport system that has an alt mode with wheels. Now, if said person is driving through or on top of transport cars, then...yeah, we may be concerned.”

“Really? They’ll put out all points bulletins out for stuff like that?” Nitrogear asked, sounding alarmed.

“Yeah. I mean, they usually only do it for repeat offenders or those that stand out. Me, for example, would be slag out of luck. You might be able to disappear into the crowd. Plus, you’ve got a medical reason to not be transforming.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Nitrogear replied, looking down at his lap and swinging his left leg slightly.

“Of course, when you recover, then you’re not going to have that luxury,” Roller commented with a grin, lightly shoving Nitrogear.

“If I ever recover,” Nitrogear muttered.

“Aw, come on, Nitro,” Roller countered. “You’re going to be fine. Just going to have to take it easy, alright? Pretty sure the fact I’ve let you stand on that leg hasn’t helped, but...you’re more stubborn than I gave you credit for.”

Perking up, Nitrogear grinned and sat a little straighter in the chair, looking quite pleased with himself. Laughing, Roller again lightly shoved the smaller mech, making Nitrogear wobble and shoot Roller a pointed look.

“Don’t get too cocky on me,” Roller chuckled. “Half of it was that I’d rather reach a compromise with you than have you try and do something stupid and end up hurting yourself more. And you swore you wouldn’t tell Syringe that I agreed to let you stand on that leg.”

“Heh, big ‘ole mech scared of a teeny, tiny medic.”

There was a brief pause, and Roller calmly set one hand on top of Nitrogear’s helm. He lightly drummed his digits against the smaller mech’s helm, and Nitrogear went stiff, his expression feigning terrified surprise.

“What was that, runt?” Roller asked, leaning forward.

“I...didn’t say anything,” Nitrogear answered quickly. “You’re hearing things, Roller. Might want to get that checked, you know?”

“Uh-huh, that’s better,” Roller replied with a smirk, lightly patting the top of Nitrogear’s helm as he moved his hand away. Looking over at the monitor, Roller noted, with some relief, that the bulletin was gone. It was foolish, but seeing that damned bulletin sent painful reminders of his previous career. “Scrap...looks like a rerun.”

“Yeah, looks like it. Oh well, better than static, right?”

“Guess so,” Roller agreed, walking around and leaning on the back of the chair to brace himself. “Hey, Nitro… When you don’t have guests that aren’t putting dents in your wall or breaking your stuff, do you just...sit in here alone and watch reruns?”

“Well, jeez...when you say it like that, it makes me sound pretty pathetic,” Nitrogear replied, smirking and looking up at Roller.

“Aw, come on. I didn’t mean it like that. Just...you don’t go visit Blinker or Syringe or someone else?”

“No, not really. Syringe is either out or busy, and he’s kind of a difficult conversationalist unless you get him pretty inebriated.”  
“Syringe? Mr. Uptight himself gets drunk?”

“Pretty, uh, pretty well, too.”

“Well, color me ten shades of surprised,” Roller chuckled. “What about Blinker?”

“He’s...kind of...not one to talk to. Doesn’t like talking to anybody, really.”

“Not even you? You two seem pretty close.”

“It’s more out of a necessity for survival. Most people don’t really want much to do with...either of us, really. But you even said that Blinker kind of grates on your nerves.”

“I worked ages with guys that grated on my nerves,” Roller countered with a soft chuckle. “Just because Blinker’s twitchy doesn’t mean I would ignore him completely unless I needed to buy something.”

“Yeah. I guess it’s just...he kind of...scares me.”

“Scares you?” Roller repeated, practically laughing out the answer. “How in the Pit could he scare you? Guy’s so twitchy and jumpy that that waste bin over there could send him running.”

“Exactly. ...and one of these days, that’s going to be me.”

Stopping, Roller studied Nitrogear, who was now staring somberly at the floor, rather than the monitor. Sighing heavily, Roller set a hand on Nitrogear’s shoulder, very carefully giving the smaller ‘bot a small shake, trying to reassure him.

“You don’t know that. Besides, you don’t...abuse the stuff. Not to the level I’m betting Blinker does, and definitely not to the level I do.”

That was enough to make Nitrogear look up, and he gave Roller a faintly scrutinizing look. Even though he glanced away with a short sigh, Roller didn’t remove his hand from Nitrogear’s shoulder. Instead, he actually gave the mech’s shoulder a light squeeze.

“Yeah, I know...that last part isn’t exactly the most comforting, but hey, at least you know if you ever do...overdo it, I’ll be able to do something.”

“You would?” Nitrogear inquired, sounding slightly surprised.

“Of course I would, Nitro,” Roller replied quietly.

Sighing and slumping back against the chair, actually leaning into Roller’s hand, Nitrogear managed a faint smile.

“Thanks, Roller.”

“Nothing to thank me for.” Looking up at the monitor, and wanting to distract Nitrogear from the grim subject, Roller motioned to the monitor with his other hand. “On the plus side, looks like a new episode came on, huh?”

As if on cue, the lights clacked off, but the monitor, mercifully, maintained acceptable clarity and the audio was barely affected. Both Nitrogear and Roller appeared surprised by the lack of decline in quality, but neither wanted to possibly jinx the stroke of good luck. Finally, Roller started to say something, but stopped when he noticed Nitrogear cautiously reaching up to his hand.

“...you’re fine, Nitro.”

Starting only slightly, Nitrogear slowly clasped his hand over Roller’s, his digit tips loosely gripping at the seams of Roller’s armor on his hand. His gaze remained on the monitor, but Nitrogear slowly leaned his head against Roller’s hand. The larger mech didn’t move, and, after a moment, Nitrogear fully relaxed and focused on the show that was playing on the monitor.

Roller’s focus, though, was still on Nitrogear. His cerulean optics flicked over the small ‘bot, taking note of the way the light seemed to find every dent and scratch on Nitrogear’s helm and shoulder. With a bit of disappointment, Roller could tell that the handlebar part of Nitrogear’s helm was still slightly askew. Apparently, Roller hadn’t been able to completely repair the damage done. One more thing to add to the proverbial ‘cannot do’ list.

Sighing heavily, Roller turned his gaze back to the monitor, hoping that the new episode would help silence the negative thoughts that were already starting to rise in his mind.

****

* * *

****

It was the dull hiss of static that broke Roller out of his thoughts.

Looking up quickly, his left optic struggling to regain focus as quickly as his right, Roller winced and started to try and stand up. His joints had become stiff, and his it seemed like his entire back, from the base of his helm to his spinal strut, had been welded into place.

“Damn,” Roller groaned. He managed a shaky, pain-laced chuckle. “Nitro, why’d you let me zone out li-”

Stopping immediately when he felt weight on his hand, Roller looked down to see that Nitrogear had managed to doze off into a low power state. The small mech’s head was still resting against Roller’s hand, Nitrogear’s smaller digits still loosely clutching at Roller’s.

Suppressing a wince, Roller reached down and very carefully extracted his hand away from underneath Nitrogear’s head. At the same time, he moved Nitrogear so that the mech wouldn’t have his head cocked at an odd angle. Once he was technically free, Roller stood up, fighting to stifle another groan as his joints creaked in protest to moving.

Walking around the chair, Roller crouched down, regretting the action as he did so, and carefully scooped up Nitrogear. The smaller ‘bot whined and muttered something in response, but reflexively draped his arms around Roller’s neck as he was picked up. Very carefully adjusting Nitrogear’s weight in his hold, Roller glanced down at the mech to ensure he was still dozing, before looking over to the berth.

“Yeah, yeah,” Roller whispered. “I know, I’m pulling you away from the comfort of that uncushioned, steel hard chair to put you on a recharge slab. I’m a monster.”

“...Roller?” Nitrogear murmured, wriggling around in Roller’s hold and trying to hide his face against Roller’s chassis.

“What’s up, Nitro?”

“Don’t...forget...turn off...music.”

“Music?” Roller repeated, frowning in confusion. He quickly tilted the right side of his head, trying to hear a bit better in case his injuries had somehow managed to damage his hearing.

But there was nothing. Nothing but the dull drone of static from the monitor.

“Afraid you’re hearing things, buddy,” Roller murmured, carefully shifting Nitrogear slightly in his arms. “There’s no music.”

“...hmn...heard it…”

Opting not to argue the issue, as he would much rather keep Nitrogear as close to sleeping as possible, Roller carefully lay Nitrogear down on the berth. Fortunately, Roller was able to keep the small mech steady enough that Nitrogear just continued to murmur about the nonexistent music, but promptly slipped into a recharge cycle. Gingerly, Roller moved Nitrogear’s leg so that it was as aligned as possible, then stepped back, watching the small ‘bot to make sure that Nitrogear remained in his recharge cycle.

After a few moments, Roller turned and went to turn off the monitor. There was no need for it to be running at this point, and once the transmissions clicked off completely, the louder static would just serve to wake Nitrogear. Flicking the switch to turn off the monitor, Roller stared at the blank screen for a long moment, a slow sigh escaping him.

There had been a reason behind him asking what Nitrogear did with his free time, and the answer he had gotten wasn’t really sitting well with Roller. Initially, he had planned to recover, make sure that Nitrogear was at least set and safe by the time he was ready to head out, and then...well, leave the other behind while he went to search for his former compatriots. At the very least, he wanted answers.

Now, though, things were...complicated.

As much as he could logically reason that Nitrogear would proverbially, not literally, weigh him down and be more of a liability than anything else, Roller couldn’t fathom leaving the little ‘bot behind. He’d done far too much for Roller for him to just leave him like a discarded tool. Not to mention that there would be no quelling the nagging fear that something very bad could happen to Nitrogear after Roller left. Little idiot thought with his spark, not his brain module.

Shaking his head, Roller walked over to the recharge slab and looked over Nitrogear before turning and sitting down on the floor, resting his sore back against the slab. He didn’t know what he was going to do. Seeing as how he couldn’t leave Nitrogear behind, Roller was now at the question as to what he was going to do with Nitrogear.

The guy couldn’t fight. Not even to save his life. And while Roller wasn’t planning on doing things the hard way unless he absolutely had to, the large mech was noticing that trouble seemed to have a way of finding him. Nitrogear would be constantly caught in the crossfire and Roller didn’t trust himself to be able to protect the smaller ‘bot; not by a long shot.

Sighing heavily as his posture slumped, Roller stared ahead blankly, his focus finally falling on his hands. Indecision gnawed at him, even though he felt like there wasn’t really much of a choice to begin with. He wanted Nitrogear to come with him, and Roller knew that would be putting the ‘bot in danger, which would subsequently lead to Nitrogear being hurt. It was all fine if Roller got beat up in the quest to answer his seeming obsession with the question ‘why?’, but Nitrogear had nothing to do with this. He didn’t deserve to get hurt.

Just as he was about to start entertaining downright laughable ideas of trying to leave Nitrogear in the care of Syringe or carting him around everywhere, another thought crossed Roller’s mind.

Who was to say Nitrogear would even want to go anywhere with him? Especially given that the entire scenario, ultimately, had nothing to do with Nitrogear.

...Roller was surprised to realize just how much the idea of Nitrogear refusing to go with him hurt.

But it would make sense. Why in the name of the fiery Pits would Nitrogear want to follow down an alleyway, much less across the planet, and possibly further, when Roller couldn’t even keep the ‘bot safe from a couple of street thugs? That wasn’t even taking into account the fact that it was a terrible inconvenience to Nitrogear that he should be expected to keep up with Roller and his insecurities.

As much as the rejection would hurt, it would at least alleviate some of the guilt on Roller’s conscience, and it would be Nitrogear’s choice, not Roller’s.

Something feebly hit the side of Roller’s helm, instantly snapping him out of his thoughts, and the mech sat up straight, already starting to stand, when he realized what it was.

Nitrogear’s arm had slid off the side of the berth, and when it had done so, the mech’s hand had hit Roller. Of course, there was no damage, but it had given Roller a bit of a start. Apparently, Nitrogear was still struggling to recharge fitfully, and had already rolled over to the side of the slab in the short amount of time he’d been laying there.

Trying to keep quiet as he did so, Roller looked over the edge of the berth, attempting to see if Nitrogear was still at least dozing. The half-shuttered, yellow optics looking back at him was more than an answer. Smirking faintly, Roller glanced down the length of the berth before back at Nitrogear.

“Planning to roll right off there, buddy?”

“...’m I what?” Nitrogear asked, sitting up slowly as he looked around. When he realized how close he was to the edge of the slab, Nitrogear gave it a surprised look, then looked back at Roller, his expression, though still laced with tiredness, managed to feign indignation. “You were just going to let me roll off?”

“Hey, I’m right here. I would have caught you. Or...at least part of you. You probably would have ended up kissing the floor there for a bit.”

“Ew,” Nitrogear commented, his features scrunching up. Resting on his forearm and looking down at Roller from his somewhat precarious perch on the edge of the berth, Nitrogear studied Roller’s expression for a bit, then reached over and lightly prodded the side of Roller’s helm. “What’s wrong, big guy?”

“Nothing.”

“I’m still halfway to recharging and I can tell you’re lying. What is it?”

Glancing up at Nitrogear, somewhat irritated with the small ‘bot’s persistence, but at the same time grateful for it, Roller studied Nitrogear’s tired features and then sighed heavily. He shifted his weight, debating on whether or not to tell Nitrogear what he had been thinking, but another look at Nitrogear told Roller that if he didn’t tell the yellow-opticed mech now, he’d be telling him sooner rather than later.

“I was trying to figure out what to do about you,” Roller finally replied with a heavy sigh.

“Me? What do you need to do about me?”

“I...I’m not going to stay here forever, Nitro, you’ve got to understand that.” From the corner of his optic, Roller could see Nitrogear tense. “Eventually, I’m intending to get back out there and try to find my team and...try to figure out a few answers. Understand?”

“Um...yeah,” Nitrogear answered, his gaze quickly falling away from the larger mech. He was fast regretting having pressed the question of what had been on Roller’s mind. “I-I get it. Nobody would want to stay here forever...I guess.”

“And that’s just it,” Roller continued, keeping his gaze on Nitrogear from the corner of his optic. “I’m not about to leave you here, I just...don’t want you getting hurt or worse if-well, if…”

“If what?”

“If you came with me. ...if you even wanted to come with me, that is.”

Nitrogear was quiet for a long time, his thoughts suddenly kicking into overdrive, and he struggled to find a proper response for what seemed like the longest moment of his life. Roller was asking him to go...with him? True, it didn’t sound like Roller really knew where they would be going, but at least it was out of this box that Nitrogear had more or less resigned himself to eventually offline and rust away in.

“You-you mean...I’d go with you? Follow you around?”

“Yeah,” Roller answered, turning so that he could look directly at Nitrogear. “I can’t guarantee anything about...well, just about anything. I don’t know where we’d end up, and I know I can’t promise it’ll be safe. The best I can guarantee is-”

“I’ll go.”

Stopping, Roller stared at Nitrogear in stunned surprise. The smaller mech was clinging tightly to the edge of the berth, but kept his gaze locked with Roller’s as he awaited a response. When there was silence, Nitrogear cringed away slightly, worry starting to etch in on his features.

“You’re...you’re sure about this, Nitro?” Roller asked with faint incredulity in his tone. “There’s a chance...you may never see this place again, you know?”

“To be honest, I’m kind of tired of the view. Might not be so bad to have a change of pace.”

There was a long pause, and Roller finally gave Nitrogear an apologetic look before speaking again.

“You do know...you could get hurt.”

“I’ve been hurt while here.”

“Or worse.”

“Nothing saying that wouldn’t happen here, either.”

Though the incredulity had since faded, there was still the nagging skepticism that Roller wouldn’t be able to keep Nitrogear safe. This was certainly an annoying change of pace from the rejected feeling Roller had been fearing that Nitrogear would have just opted to stay put, rather than tag along.

“And...you know I may not be able to always keep you out of trouble, right?” Roller ventured slowly.

“I am trouble,” Nitrogear retorted, quickly putting on a serious, narrow-opticed expression.

Though he managed a slight chuckle, there was still worry on Roller’s features, and he shook his head.

“I mean it, Nitro. I’ll do my best to keep you safe, if you wanted to come along, but...you know I’ve got some pretty low limits.”

“Roller, cut it out,” Nitrogear retorted, frowning. “I’m scared of my own shadow half the time, so there’s no way I would have agreed to go with you if you really had ‘low limits’.”

Roller started to argue, then stopped and sighed as a smile worked onto his features, and he turned the smile up to Nitrogear, who was already grinning faintly.

“You’ve got me figured out, runt,” Roller commented.

“Eh...almost,” Nitrogear answered with a wave of his hand. He then sat up on the berth and scooted back so that he was leaning against the wall before patting the empty slab space beside him. “Now get up here.”

“What?”

“Can’t have you sitting on the floor. Get your aft up here.”

“Nitro, you need sleep. You fell asleep in that chair of yours. How, I don’t know, but you did. Just lay back down and get in a few decent recharge cycles for once.”

“I can sleep sitting up.”

“I noticed,” Roller replied, motioning to the chair.

“Come on, Roller,” Nitrogear called, lightly kicking his left pede. “You could use the rest, too, and the floor is probably about as comfortable as the chair.”

After a moment, Roller finally stood up with a low groan of pain, gripping the edge of the berth to help support himself as he rose. Nitrogear watched him with silent concern, twiddling his digits quickly, and promptly scooted aside a bit more when Roller clambered up onto the slab. Relaxing against the wall, Roller seemed to groan a sigh, and after a few moments, he gave Nitrogear a half-hearted grin.

“Okay, you were right. This is way better than the floor.”

“See? And we don’t even have to worry about giant, house pests-oh, wait…”

“Shut up,” Roller chuckled.

There was a stretch of silence, and, after twiddling his digits for a few minutes, Nitrogear looked up at Roller. The larger mech seemed to be as tired as he was, so Nitrogear didn’t want to keep him awake any longer than necessary. But there was something that was nagging at the back of his thoughts…

“Hey, Roller?”

“Yeah?”

“You...you were really serious about letting me go with you when you leave here?”

“Of course I was,” Roller replied with a half-smile, looking down at Nitrogear. “Slag it, I still am.”

After a few moments, a small, but sincere smile tugged at the corners of Nitrogear’s mouth and he cautiously leaned against the larger ‘bot. Roller only made a soft chuckle and loosely draped an arm around Nitrogear, pulling him close and wordlessly assuring him that he could lean on him.

“Get some sleep, Nitro. I’m not going anywhere, buddy.”


	10. Author's Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick Author's Note.

{Under normal circumstances, I try to avoid Author’s Notes as I feel they sort of break the immersion of a fanfiction. However, given the way that the canon storyline has gone, I felt the need to put this quick note in.}  
{I do have a small problem of, when the canon storyline starts deviating notably from my own fanfiction, I start to struggle to continue writing. That being said, however, I have no intention of dropping this fanfic. I love it too much, have poured too much time, thought, emotion, effort, and passion into it, and it seems there are some people who really enjoy reading it, too. So there’s no way that I can stop writing for “Frayed Connection” and I’m going to see it through to the end.}  
{That being said, please note that, obviously, “Frayed Connection” is going to deviate from the canon storyline of both “More Than Meets The Eye” and “The Lost Light”. It’s going to take a speculative look into the creation of Tarn, the building of the Decepticon Justice Division, Nitrogear’s participation in it, and further.}  
{Hopefully, you, my dear readers, find this an entertaining and an enjoyable read. I’m quite excited to resume writing “Frayed Connection”, and I appreciate both your patience and lovely, encouraging comments.}  
{Thank you.}  
{~bones}


	11. Tentative Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Nitrogear's injuries healing, Roller and his newfound friend begin planning their departure, however tentative the plans may be.

The sound of a fight outside made Roller snap awake, his left optic aching with the sudden action. Stifling a wince, he gazed around the dim room, his systems rolling online as promptly as they could. Listening a little closer, the green-sparked mech could hear that the fight wasn’t as close as he’d initially estimated, but still a little too close for comfort. He started to slide off the berth, but at the feeling of a foreign weight shifting against his side, Roller looked down...and saw Nitrogear still recharging soundly.

Immediately relaxing so as to not risk rousing the smaller mech from their rare slumber, Roller looked back to the door with narrowed optics. He noted, with some sense of relief, that his vision was almost completely cleared up, and whatever ache there had been was now almost gone. At least there was that…

The sound of gunfire made Roller tense, and he wondered if it was going to be necessary to wake Nitrogear simply for their own safety. It was a short-lived thought, however, as the racket was loud enough to wake the scrawny mech with a start. He looked around quickly, then up at Roller, who shook their helm.

“It’s not as close as you’d think,” he reassured, gaze drifting back to the doorway.

“You sure?” Nitrogear asked quietly, already starting to scoot back on the berth in an attempt to hide behind the much larger mech. “Kind of...loud.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Roller promised, sliding off the berth and standing up. He stretched gingerly to work out some of the stiffness from his joints before walking over to the door and listening a little closer to the sounds of conflict. After a few moments, he nodded and looked back to Nitrogear. “Yeah, they’re at least a couple blocks away. Besides, they come in here and they’ll have to go through me first.”

The statement seemed to surprise Nitrogear, as he froze and looked up at Roller in disbelief.

“...really?” he finally asked, voice small.

Frowning, Roller turned to look at Nitrogear and he nodded slowly.

“Of course,” he promised. He then managed a somewhat short chuckle and shrugged. “I’d be a pretty poor bodyguard if I can’t even keep you safe here, wouldn’t I?”

Though he appeared to still be somewhat stunned by the word ‘bodyguard’, Nitrogear didn’t say anything to the contrary. Instead, he looked back to the door with a mildly worried gaze. He rubbed his slightly sore shoulder, trying to ease the dull pain radiating from it.

“Well, hopefully they just...sort it out on their own,” he finally muttered, gaze falling.

Eyeing the smaller mech for a few moments, Roller shrugged before reaching over and giving Nitrogear a gentle pat on the back. It was enough to make the yellow-optic mech look up, and Roller gave them as confident a grin that he could muster.

“Hey, relax,” Roller replied. “They’re not getting in here. I can promise you that much.”

 

* * *

 

Normally, Dreadnought would have asked Flatline to keep the screams to a minimum, given that anybody passing over their facility might be able to hear the sounds of torture radiating up from the ship’s medical bay. Now, however, with Mindsweep nursing a damaged hand and a heavily bruised ego, the green-sparked mech was more than content to let Tripwire’s pained shrieks echo through across the walls and down the halls.

Flatline was effortlessly carving a bloody path down the unfortunate mech’s back, the gouge deep enough to spurt Energon and reach their spinal strut. Glasses gleaming in the bright, overhead light, the medic appeared quite calm, given the circumstances, and only glanced up when Dreadnought would occasionally shift their weight or make a short noise of admiration.

“I trust that they’re going to retain consciousness?” Dreadnought asked after a few minutes of silence.

“Most certainly,” Flatline replied, his tone somewhat gleeful despite his deadpan expression. “Their systems are simply entering a low power state given the loss of Energon.”

Though he didn’t see it, Flatline didn’t miss the seemingly confused pulse from Dreadnought’s field as the silver and blue mech strode over to inspect the medic’s handiwork a little closer. Obligingly shuffling to the side so that Dreadnought could have a clearer view, Flatline looked over to Mindsweep, who was still favoring Tripwire with a sulking pout.

“Let me see your hand,” the medic stated, walking over to the mnemosurgeon.

“To the Pit with my hand,” Mindsweep snipped back with a sniff. “Make sure that Tripwire suffers every last second he’s got left in this miserable life.”

“That is something that _I_ will ensure,” Dreadnought interjected as he held up a clawed hand. On cue, translucent ripples of bright green began to waft up from the sharp digits, a spider web of energy crackling across the green-spark’s armor. “Let Flatline see to the injuries on your hand, Mindsweep. We need to ensure that your mnemosurgery needles haven’t been damaged.”

With an audible huff, Mindsweep held out his hand, which was sporting a minor dent and a few scuffs. Tutting quietly as he inspected the damages, Flatline adjusted his glasses as he gingerly held the mnemosurgeon’s hand in his own. He tilted the damaged servo carefully, looking over each digit with a scrutinizing gaze.

“Are you able to extend those needles?” he asked after a few moments.

There was a brief pause on Mindsweep’s part, and then he managed to extend the needles with a slight twitch of a wince. Flatline almost immediately nodded his approval, inspecting the needles for any dents or damage, as well as ensuring that Mindsweep’s digits were still able to flex without resistance.

Meanwhile, Dreadnought was looking over Tripwire’s mangled frame with an unmistakably morbid fascination, letting his own digit tips lightly drag across the deep gouges. He was careful not to aggravate the injuries further; at least, not at the moment. If anything, Dreadnought intended to let Flatline have their way with Tripwire a little further before he stepped in to completely snuff out the unfortunate mech’s spark. ...and preferably snuff it out in the slowest, most painful way possible.

“Well, good news,” Flatline announced, straightening his posture as he looked over at Dreadnought. “It appears that there is no permanent damage to Mindsweep’s hand or digits.”

“How fortunate,” Dreadnought crooned, a corner of his mouth pulling up in a sneer. “...fortunate for Mindsweep, that is. I cannot say the same for Tripwire. There has to be a lesson that’s taught, of course.”

“But of course,” the morbid medic agreed, walking back over to where Tripwire was lying. “I hadn’t intended to gauge Tripwire’s punishment in direct correlation with Mindsweep’s injuries.”

Slowly coming back to consciousness just in time to hear Flatline’s sordid statement, Tripwire made a confused, pained noise as he looked between Dreadnought and the medic that had been torturing him ruthlessly. Whatever retort the tortured mech may have had was immediately cut off when Dreadnought chuckled and patted Tripwire heavily.

“Shh… No need to worry that little brain module of yours,” the silver-blue mech shushed. “Both Flatline and myself are going to ensure that it is a very unwise decision to attack mnemosurgeon’s...even if they are attempting to brainwash you.”

 

* * *

 

Fortunately, Roller’s promise held out to be true, and the fighting that had been going on outside eventually faded away as the morning light began to creep through the alleyways and currently sparsely-occupied streets. Nitrogear shuffled around the room slowly, cautiously testing his hip joint while Roller was trying to see if there was any salvageable scrap to be sold as well as keep an eye on his scrawnier compatriot.

“Looks like there’s quite a bit here,” the orange mech commented as he held up a small syringe cannister. “Kind of ironic how much care they put into the syringes and other containers, but what’s actually in them, well…”

“Yeah, the stuff rots away your insides,” Nitrogear replied with a weak, knowing grin.

“Well, bad news for you, but once we’re out of here, we’re getting you clean off this stuff,” Roller stated, pointing at Nitrogear. Then he smirked and chuckled. “Would rather not have to sell you for scrap, too.”

The joke earned a short laugh from Nitrogear, who tilted his helm to the side and quirked a helm ridge.

“If you manage to get more than ten shanix for my whole frame, I’ll be stunned.”

“Cut that kind of talk or I’ll throw one of these pieces of scrap at you.”

“How dare you threaten the already wounded!” Nitrogear answered with mock hurt and disbelief. “You’re an officer of the law. You have a civil duty to protect and...uh, something.”

Standing up with a muted groan, Roller walked over to the yellow-opticed mech until he was just close enough that he could tower over the much smaller mech and give them a pointed look as he loosely crossed his arms. Roller was close enough that Nitrogear had to crane his helm back to be able to barely maintain optic contact with Roller.

“For your information, I’m a _former_ officer,” the orange mech stated, though he wasn’t able to hide the grin pulling at one corner of his mouth. “And I don’t take orders from little runts who I can pick up with one hand.”

Whatever retort Nitrogear may have had was quickly cut of when a thought crossed their processor, and he gave Roller a disbelieving look. He crossed his arms and quirked a helm ridge, studying the much larger mech for a moment before speaking.

“Wait a minute...what about you?”

“Huh? Me? Me what?”

“You and the...circuit speeders. If I’m getting clean of the stuff, then you have to, as well. Can’t have me going cold off  the stuff on my own.”

Whatever humor had been on Roller’s features rapidly faded and he made a noncommittal grunt before looking away. With a shrug, he instead walked back over to the pile of scrap that he had been sifting through and resumed the task in silence. The action was met with a frown and concerned look from Nitrogear, who limped over to the larger mech that was once again knelt over.

“Roller? A shrug and a grunt isn’t exactly an answer, buddy,” the scrawny mech chuckled as he carefully and lightly set a hand on the green-spark’s shoulder.

The feeling of Nitrogear’s hand on his frame somewhat surprised Roller, but he didn’t say anything, finding an odd sense of comfort in the gesture. Instead, he ventilated a long sigh and paused with the task he was working on, resting back on his heels. He stared blankly at the wall for a moment, knowing that Nitrogear wouldn’t like his answer. But he wasn’t going to lie, either. Not to Nitrogear.

“I...can’t really make any promises on that, Nitro.”

“What? Why not? We both agreed that that stuff is a pretty unhealthy choice, and-”

“For you. I can handle it. One of the few things I can do with this useless spark of mine.”

Groaning a sigh, Nitrogear slouched somewhat dramatically before lightly smacking Roller’s shoulder. While he hadn’t expected the orange mech to be excited to give up the circuit speeders, Nitrogear had been hoping that maybe they’d be a little more open to viewing themselves as more than ‘useless’.

“Come on, Roller,” Nitrogear muttered, moving back a little as the larger mech turned to him. “You’re not useless, and talking about yourself like that doesn’t help matters at all.”

“Oh yeah? And what if I have to protect you from something? Or someone?”

“Okay, then...punch them! Shoot them!” Nitrogear replied, waving his arms. “Pretty sure you can do that without being buzzed on circuit speeders. In fact, I’m sure you can.”

“It wouldn’t be the same, Nitro, and you know it,” Roller replied tersely, though his gaze was still diverted from the smaller mech. “Especially if they’re someone stronger than me.”

“I highly doubt that our chances of running into the three mechs stronger than you are that high,” came the frustrated reply.

Ventilating an exasperated sigh and squeezing his optics shut, Roller made a quiet groan before shaking his helm. This was an argument he didn’t want to have. The only real answer would be for them to agree to disagree, but Nitrogear seemed adamant about him being clean off the only thing that really gave him an edge.

“I’ll...try, okay? How’s that?” Roller finally offered.

The smaller mech narrowed their optics and studied Roller for a long moment, humming in thought as they did so. Finally, though not appearing completely convinced, Nitrogear nodded his helm slowly in agreement...much to Roller’s relief.

“Alright. So long as you promise to really try.”

“I will,” Roller replied, though he already knew the ultimate outcome of this agreement. He then managed a quick, half-grin before motioning to the pile of scrap he had piled up. “On the plus side, looks like there’s quite a few shanix to be made from this.”

“Oh yeah?” Nitrogear asked, hobbling a bit so that he could peek around Roller. “Huh. Well, that is a plus. Figure we can use some of the money to get us some supplies, yeah?”

“Good idea. We’ll need to travel light, but heading out without anything wouldn’t be the brightest idea.” Roller then turned to look back at Nitrogear. “Besides, we need to make sure that that joint of yours is as operational as possible before going anywhere.”

Wincing a little at the mention, the yellow-opticed mech looked down at his pedes, shifting his weight from one to the other nervously. He shrugged and rubbed his arm, looking back up at the orange mech with a weak grin.

“Yeah, heh...guess so.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it too much. I figure that we can get you over to Syringe for a checkup and get an idea of where things are from there.”

“Why, Roller, I’m flattered,” Nitrogear said, feigning a flirtatious expression. “You’re willing to face the big, bad, scary medic Syringe for little, ‘ole me.”

The green-spark’s expression immediately went to that of an exasperated smirk, and Roller pointed a digit at Nitrogear.

“Quiet, you. I never said I was going _into_ Syringe’s clinic. I’m quite content to just wait outside.”

“Sissy.”


	12. Mind Needles in Alleyways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While returning from a rather profitable exchange of scrap metal for shanix, Roller and Nitrogear cross paths with someone that they both know. But they know them from very different viewpoints.

The morning air was surprisingly and welcomingly cool, and there were so few mechs in the smaller streets that Roller was able to walk alongside Nitrogear with relative ease. It was something that the massive mech was grateful for for a variety of reasons, but a couple included that he could keep a closer watch on his friend, who was still hosting a faint limp. The other was that, if he were to be completely honest with himself, it made him feel like less of an outcast than he already was.

“How much you think we’ll get for the stuff again?” Nitrogear asked, shrugging a little with the weight of the box of scrap metal he was carrying.

“Eh, I’d figure a pretty good amount. You’ve managed to amass, uh, quite a lot of scrap, so...maybe around a hundred shanix or so?” Roller replied. He was carrying a far larger box of scrap metal, but had insisted he do so. It only made sense.

“Really? That much?” Nitrogear exclaimed quietly, perking up. He looked down at the contents in the box he was carrying with a grin. “Sheesh… Glad I’m a lousy housekeeper.”

Chuckling, Roller made a mindful effort to slow his pace, noticing that Nitrogear was borderline skipping to keep up with him. He could only guess that that would not be good for the yellow-opticed mech’s hip, and… Well, to be perfectly honest, Roller was rather enjoying the walk. It was nice to be out of the makeshift home and stretch his sore joints. Even if the scenery wasn’t the best, Roller found he couldn’t complain at all in regards to the company.

“Well, that’s not going to fly once we’re out of here,” Roller stated. “I prefer to keep a clean living quarters, if you don’t mind.”

“That’s fine. Not exactly like I _enjoy_ waking up with dust in my joints.”

The two walked on for a bit further, occasionally pausing to to look at what some of the local shops were advertising for sale. After a few minutes of window shopping, Nitrogear frowned, then looked up at Roller.

“Hey, Roller?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you like to do?”

“What do I like to do?”

“Yeah, like...hobbies and such. What’d you do in your spare time before you, uh...before we met? Did you draw? Write? Sing?”

“You really think I look like the artistic type?” Roller asked with a chuckle, glancing down at Nitrogear.

“I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt, you big lug,” Nitrogear answered, making a face.

“Alright, alright,” Roller laughed. “Let me think…”

His laughter faded as he thought over the smaller mech’s question. It had been quite some time since he had been able to indulge any sort of hobby, as it were. He’d always been too busy trying to make sure that he was actually _useful_ to at least _someone_ , that his own needs, much less wants, had come second. Even so, there were a couple things that came to mind…

“Have always liked reading,” Roller finally admitted, his voice somewhat quiet as he drifted back a little into his own thoughts. “Been kind of a fan of those biographies and autobiographies. Those and, uh…”

“And…?” Nitrogear asked expectantly, trying to coax along the larger mech.

“...poetry,” Roller replied after a moment of silent deliberation as whether or not to answer.

“That’s...interesting,” Nitrogear commented, tilting his helm to one side. “I would have pegged you for more of a science fiction or fantasy type, but biographies and poetry are good, too! Anything else?”

“Not really. Never had a lot of time for hobbies. Though I have always wanted to see about just trying out music.”

“Music?”

“Yeah, just to see if listening to it while reading is something that I enjoy. Maybe some of that more classical stuff they always advertise on-” Roller paused and frowned, his expression darkening, as he shook his helm. “Never mind. That’s got to be one of the stupidest things I’ve said in a long time.”

“What’s stupid about it?” Nitrogear cried, looking back up at Roller indignantly. He scoffed and gave his helm a quick shake. “Doesn’t sound stupid to me. I mean, it is a little sad to hear that you haven’t had time to see _if_ you even like listening to music while reading, but...maybe that’s something we can fix once we’re out of here? Buy you a couple of biographies and poetry books, couple of music collections, and then just sit you down and see what you think.”

Chuckling, Roller mulled over the idea...and found that he it really didn’t sound that unappealing. In fact, if he were to be perfectly honest with himself, it sounded like something he would actually enjoy for a change. And wasn’t that just an odd turn of events?

“Heh, I’m going to laugh my helm off if you end up liking that classical music that it’s the _only_ thing you play on the ship,” Nitrogear snickered as they turned the corner. He then brightened a little, an idea obviously going through his thoughts. “You’ll pick one out for your own theme song!”

“My _what_?” Roller laughed.

“Your theme song! It’ll be the ‘Roller Suite’ or something like that!”

“The ‘Roller Suite’, huh?” the larger mech repeated. “Is it going to play every time I enter the room or something?”

“I dunno’,” Nitrogear replied quickly with a shrug. “You’re going to be the boss of this operations, not me. I’m going to just be the mascot or something.”

“The ‘mascot’?” Roller chuckled, his smile now completely unwavering.

“Yeah. I think I’d be an adorable one. You know...I greet others when they’re hailing the ship or whatever.”

“Well, maybe a bit more than mascot, don’t you think? I was thinking more like second in command.”

“Oh, no, no… I panic too easily. If the ship suddenly gave a warning sound and you were sound asleep or listening to the ‘Roller Suite’, all I’d be good for is running around in circles and screaming.”

“You know, I sometimes think you don’t give yourself enough credit,” Roller commented, looking down at Nitrogear with a grin.

Even so, there was a definite sincerity to the larger mech’s words.

 

* * *

 

Meanwhile, across town, Mindsweep was striding through the streets, humming quietly to himself and playing with his digits slowly. It was kind of a habit at this point. If he was deep in thought, then you could almost be guaranteed that the mnemosurgeon’s digits would be twiddling.

Optics narrowing slightly, Mindsweep mentally went over the list that both Dreadnought and Flatline had sent him with. While Mindsweep was all too happy to pick up whatever Dreadnought sent him out for, usually because Mindsweep would later enjoy those supplies himself, picking up things for Flatline always left a sort of cold feeling in the pit of the mnemosurgeon’s core. He _hated_ having to see Flatline work or the results of said work, so even picking up the medic’s ‘tools of the trade’ made Mindsweep cringe.

Even so, it was far safer to send Mindsweep out instead of Flatline. Otherwise, Flatline was liable to bring home everything on their supply list...and a new test subject.

Personally, Mindsweep didn’t know why Dreadnought didn’t get another medic, but his commander’s choices didn’t exist for the mnemosurgeon to question.

Even with his gaze downcast and Mindsweep only half paying attention to where he was going, other mechs made sure to get out of his way. He wasn’t very tall, nor very imposing, at least...not unless he was _working_ , but the mechs in this neighborhood and a few others knew who Mindsweep’s commander was. And, more importantly, what Mindsweep’s commander would _do_ to them if they harassed the mnemosurgeon in any way.

It involved them disappearing and never being heard from again.

Stopping in front of the first store, mainly one for medical supplies, Mindsweep stared up at the sign for a long moment before ventilating a heavy sigh and trudging in. He was muttering some rather unsavory things about Flatline and their choice of trade and tools, but went inside, nonetheless.

There was a quiet bing to alert the shopkeeper of Mindsweep’s presence, and the shopkeeper looked up and, upon recognizing the mnemosurgeon, slowly sat up straighter. He smiled and nodded in polite acknowledgment to Mindsweep, with the other briefly returning the gesture. Mindsweep was more focused on the list of tools he was supposed to get, as he didn’t want to have to deal with the absolute tantrum Flatline would throw if he got the wrong ones.

“Help you find anything?”

“Yeah, these,” Mindsweep replied, shoving the small datapad to the shopkeeper.

The somewhat rude gesture was completely ignored, as the shopkeeper wasn’t feeling particularly suicidal, and instead he nodded and took the datapad while looking over it.

“Hm… I, uh…”

“Not for me. You know who they’re for.”

“I do, just...that’s twice the number of electro-scalpels he ordered the last time. I’m not sure I’ve got that many.” The mech said the last part slowly, as though he anticipated that Mindsweep would snap and start beating him with the datapad.

“Well, just give me all that you’ve got. If there’s enough, hooray, if not, then Flatline will just have to deal with it.”

“No offense, but I don’t want him dealing with it by putting me on his operating table.”

That was enough to make Mindsweep laugh, and he grinned somewhat morbidly up at the shopkeeper, sliding the datapad over.

“Oh, don’t worry. Flatline may be looking for some new, uh, patients, but he’s not going to cut up the guy that supplies him with the tools to do said cutting up.”

Ignoring the grimace that the shopkeeper made, Mindsweep turned his attention back to the rows and rows of medical supplies in the store. Most of them meant little more to him that utensils that were meant to poke, prod, and pry at a mech, but Flatline insisted on them. Given that the medic’s ‘patients’ made some very useful cannon fodder when the situation required it, Mindsweep wasn’t going to comment too much.

Watching as the shopkeeper milled around the store, picking up the items that were listed on the datapad, Mindsweep hummed to himself and looked over his digits. He admired the small, needle-sized holes in the tips, unable to suppress his grin at the sight. He hadn’t had someone to work on in a while, but Mindsweep was hopeful that, if he was able to get on Flatline’s good side, that might change.

“Here we are. This...should be everything.”

“Oh, yeah?” Mindsweep asked, looking up. “Even all the electro-scalpels?”

“Yes. You can let Flatline know that he cleaned me out of them for the whole week, but all of them are there.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll let him know,” Mindsweep replied with a chuckle as he paid for the items.

After making sure that they were securely boxed up, so as to avoid any unfortunate pokes or cuts, Mindsweep began to make his way to a nearby bookstore. He had a few books in mind that he had been wanting for some time, and given that his commander was planning another excursion in the near future, Mindsweep didn’t want to be bored out of his processor during the trip.

He was so far in his thoughts as he turned a corner to walk down an alley that he didn’t notice the trio of mechs that fell in step behind him and began to follow.

 

* * *

 

The giddy grin on Nitrogear’s face hadn’t faded a bit since they’d left the recycling plant, and Roller couldn’t help but laugh at how excited the smaller mech appeared. True, they had gotten more for the scrap metal than either of them had anticipated, but the way Nitrogear was acting, one would have thought that they had hit the lottery.

“You know, people are going to start staring at us if you keep that goofy grin on your face,” Roller commented.

“I don’t care,” Nitrogear stated proudly. “We’re rich!”

“Uh, I don’t know if I’d go _that_ far, buddy.”

“Fine. We’re doing better financially than we were twenty minutes ago!”

Rolling his optics and smiling, Roller continued to walk alongside Nitrogear. He, once again, had to keep his stride a bit shorter so as to not make the smaller mech jog to keep up with him, but Roller hardly minded. He was content to see Nitrogear this animated and to be out in relatively fresh air. The fact that they had managed to make more money than planned for was just an extra bonus.

“Hey, why don’t we get you a book to read?” Nitrogear suddenly offered, glancing up at Roller. “I mean, it’s feasible now.”

“I don’t know, Nitro. I’m not exactly fond of the idea of immediately spending the shanix that we’ve managed to get. Kind of sets up a bad precedence, don’t you think?”

“Aw, come on, big guy. It’d just be one book. Think of it like a little celebratory gift for the start of something better. And it’d just be this once. After that, the rest will definitely go to getting us out of here.”

Making a short grumble, still not entirely sold on the idea, Roller mulled over the thought. While he didn’t want to waste a single shanix, it would be nice to have at least something else to read aside from the few books that Nitrogear owned. Not to mention, it could also be the replacement for the book that he had broken. Even so…

Roller looked back to Nitrogear, ready to try and argue that it’d be better to save all their shanix, but was greeted by an incredibly hopeful look and grin from the yellow-opticed mech. It cut Roller off before he could even begin to speak, and the orange mech knew that he didn’t have a single argument that would stand up against that expression.

So, with a long sigh and shake of his helm, even though he was smiling, Roller motioned for Nitrogear to lead the way. The smaller mech was all too happy to do so, and even skipped a bit as they moved to take the lead. The two made their way through the crowds, which had dissipated somewhat now that the primary shopping hours were over, before turning down an alleyway.

“You know, Nitro, I really have to give you credit for knowing your way around the city,” Roller commented, glancing around the scuffed walls. “Most mechs get lost just trying-”

It was then that Roller realized Nitrogear had come to an abrupt halt, and he staggered to try and stop himself before bumping into the smaller mech. The impact, though not much, was enough to make Nitrogear stumble a little, but not look up. Roller, on the other hand, was still struggling to get his composure and balance back so that he didn’t fall right down on Nitrogear, who hadn’t moved from their spot.

“Nitro! What the hell are you-!”

“Shh!” Nitrogear hissed, backing up and trying to push against Roller’s legs. “Back up, back up!”

“What? Why? What’s wrong with you?” Roller asked, trailing off when he looked up.

Down the alleyway was two mechs who had a smaller one backed up against the alleyway wall, with a third standing behind them. Under normal circumstances, Roller would have assumed it to be some sort of mugging in process, but given that the three larger mechs were all bleeding from various, small but deep, wounds on their frames, it looked like the smaller mech might have it under control.

But that was a might that Roller didn’t want to take a chance on.

“Hey, what are you three doing?” he called out.

Much to his surprise, Nitrogear almost tripped over themselves to grab Roller’s arm and begin tugging on it.

“No, no, no! This isn’t something we want to get involved in, Roller,” Nitrogear said quickly, continuing to pull on the larger mech’s arm in vain. “We need to turn around! We need to turn around _right now_!”

“Nitro, what in the world has gotten into you?” Roller hissed in disbelief, casting a look to his friend. “We can’t just let them beat that-”

“Back off, pal,” one of the larger mechs snapped. He looked to be the ringleader of the trio, but, oddly enough, seemed somewhat panicked about the entire situation. “We got this.”

Well, they had a reason to be worried, now. Roller wasn’t about to let them beat up and mug someone smaller than them for just a few shanix and a couple of laughs. Ignoring Nitrogear’s frantic pleas for them to simply turn around and walk away, Roller shrugged off Nitrogear’s grip and took a couple steps towards the four. He noticed that the smaller mech, who looked oddly familiar for some reason, was giving him a puzzled look. It certainly wasn’t the kind of reaction that Roller was used to. Normally, mechs in their situation would be a mix of relieved and upset, but this one just seemed to be perplexed by Roller’s interference.

“I don’t care what you think you’ve ‘got’,” Roller growled, narrowing his optics and already readying himself for what seemed like an inevitable fight. “Leave the little guy alone and I won’t pound the three of you into scrap.”

The look of surprise, followed by the halting laugh, confused Roller even further, and he looked down at the smaller mech, who, while still giving the orange mech an eerie feeling of familiarity, now appeared a little amused...along with still perplexed.

Appearing to ignore their target for the moment, the leading mech turned to face Roller, but pointed a digit at the smaller one.

“You don’t know who this is, do you?” The mech paused, then looked around Roller, grinning at the fact that Nitrogear appeared utterly horrified. “Looks like your little friend does. Heh, doesn’t surprise me. He’d disappear in a split second around here and nobody would even care.”

That did it.

With a surprising amount of speed, Roller closed the distance between them and grabbed the mech by the throat. He hoisted them up effortlessly before slamming them against the wall so that he could glare at them at optic-level. Though the mech struggled and made a few garbled protests, it was all in vain. Even the fact that their compatriots appeared ready to try and engage Roller didn’t faze the orange mech, and he kept his focus on his current target.

“You want to repeat that?” he snarled, a small part of him rather surprised at how viciously he had reacted to Nitrogear being threatened.

Even though they were pinned up against the wall and unable to escape, the mech managed to give a short shake of their helm. It was enough to get Roller to let them go, and he glanced over at the other two, who were glaring at him but wisely staying back. He then turned to look at the smaller mech, the one that had appeared to be the target of the trio, but found they had already darted off.

“He escaped!” one of the other mechs cried, noticing their absence as well.

“We’re dead. We’re worse than dead,” the other mech said in dread. He then glared at the mech Roller had just released. “You know what happens to people that mess with-”

“Shut up! They can’t get us if they can’t find us,” the ringleader interrupted. He then glared up at Roller. “And unless this big oaf is still wanting to play hero, we can get some distance between us and them.”

Now more confused than ever, Roller shook his helm slightly before backing up a single step. The ringleader mech gave him a scoff before spatting at his pedes and running off, his compatriots following closely. Still confused enough to ignore the rude gestures, Roller looked back to Nitrogear. His confusion was only doubled at the sight of Nitrogear hugging themselves, hunched over, and looking like they’d seen a ghost.

“Nitro, what the _hell_ is going on?” Roller asked, walking back over to the smaller mech. As he got closer, he could see that Nitrogear was trembling, along with everything else, and Roller threw up his hands in exasperation. “And why are you acting like you’re terrified?!”

“Do you not know who that was!?” Nitrogear finally shrieked, waving his hands. “Have you _never_ seen them before!? You! A former cop!?”

The outburst made Roller stop, and he stared down at Nitrogear blankly. In reply, the yellow-opticed mech’s mouth fell open slightly, before they sighed heavily and shook their helm. With a groan, Nitrogear covered his face and mumbled something that Roller couldn’t discern, but it certainly didn’t sound good.

“That was _Mindsweep_ , Roller! Mindsweep! You know-”

So _that_ was why the mech had looked so familiar. He and Roller had met, albeit under very different circumstances.

“Dreadnought’s mnemosurgeon,” Roller finished.

The fact that the orange mech seemed to finally recognize only served to exasperate Nitrogear further, and they let their helm fall back as they made a loud, groaned sigh. Although the dramatics may have had some credence, they were rather annoying, especially given the situation and that Roller had put himself in some degree of danger to keep Nitrogear safe. Crossing his arms loosely, Roller frowned down at the smaller mech.

“Save me the melodrama, would you? I didn’t recognize him. Probably because it’s been years since I’ve seen him, or that I was more focused on the mech that had _threatened you_.”

That seemed to pull Nitrogear out of their melodrama, and they looked up at Roller with a sigh, but with at least some composure, too. Looking around the ground quickly, Nitrogear seemed to be trying to get his wits back, before finally shrugging and returning to hugging himself.

“Alright, I’m-I’m sorry, okay? Just...that guy was right. I could disappear and nobody would care.”

“I would,” Roller stated.

Stopping, Nitrogear looked up a bit, appearing to think over the statement, then smiled weakly up at Roller.

“Heh, yeah. Uh, sorry… Guess I’m too used to that statement being true that it’s almost become reflex to say it.”

“Well that’s something else we’ll have to work on when we get out of here,” Roller replied, ignoring the slight sting from the fact that Nitrogear didn’t seem to recognize that Roller actually cared. Instead, he looked back to where Mindsweep and the three mechs had been. “Why’d Mindsweep freak you out so badly? I mean, I get that he’s got that connection to Dreadnought, but we helped him out, right? Not like he’s going to go complain about us.”

“I...yeah, you’re-you’re probably right,” Nitrogear murmured, not sounding very convinced. “I just-just don’t want to be on Dreadnought’s radar at all, you know?”

“Yeah, I can’t blame you on that, but calm down a little, okay? You’re, uh, you’re kind of stammering there, buddy, and it’s got me worried that you’re going to blow a fuse or something.”

Blinking quickly, as though just now realizing that he had been stammering, Nitrogear looked around before grinning up sheepishly at Roller. He shrugged, though continued to hug himself, and kicked a small piece of scrap aside.

“Sorry. Just kind of...happens whenever I get really worked up.”

“I’ve noticed. That’s why I’m saying to just calm down a bit, alright?”

“Yeah. I’ll-I’ll try.”

Frowning in concern, Roller reached over and lightly patted Nitrogear on the back, trying to provide some sort of reassurance to the smaller mech.

“Ah, don’t worry. If Dreadnought comes around and is actually looking to cause trouble, he’ll have to get through me first.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Nitrogear mumbled quietly enough that Roller couldn’t hear him.

 

* * *

 

Storming into the room, Mindsweep unceremoniously dropped the box of medical supplies on the nearest table and stomped both his pedes. The sound echoed through the room, but was immediately drown out when the mnemosurgeon began yelling.

“Dreadnought! Dreadnought!” Mindsweep shrieked, his hands balled up into fists at his sides. “Dreadnou-”

“What, what, what!?” Dreadnought demanded, practically running into the room and looking ready to shoot something. He looked around quickly and, upon realizing that it was only Mindsweep and nobody else, the large mech frowned and crossed his arms loosely. “What in the hell has gotten into you, Mindsweep?”

“I was almost mugged by a bunch of slag-sucking thugs!” the smaller mech complained, stomping a pede again. “Said they knew who I was and wanted to make an example or something like that!”

“They didn’t damage the medical supplies, did they?” Flatline asked, darting into the room and immediately going to inspect the box that Mindsweep had dropped on the table.

“Nice to see you, too, Flatline. Thank you for your concern,” Mindsweep stated sarcastically, watching as the medic ignored him and continued to paw through the contents of the box. “Your compassion is overwhelming.”

“You were _mugged_?” Dreadnought repeated in disbelief.

“Almost mugged,” Mindsweep answered, the momentary distraction of Flatline’s appearance having been enough to calm the mnemosurgeon down so that they were no longer yelling. “Some big lug of a guy stepped in and sent them running.”

“Someone helped you?” Dreadnought asked, appearing even more perplexed than before.

“Yeah. He had this smaller guy with him. Really jittery and I’m pretty sure he recognized me. Don’t think that his friend did, though. That guy just stormed in and sent those slag-suckers running.”

“You didn’t happen to catch names, did you?”

Pausing, Mindsweep looked up at Dreadnought, frowning in thought. He hummed for a moment, trying to recall if he’d heard any of the other mechs’ names. After a moment, he shrugged offhandedly and nodded.

“Yeah, I got the names of two of the three guys that tried to attack me. Think we’ve met them before. They-”

“What about the other two?” Dreadnought interrupted, surprised, and relieved, that someone would go out of their way to help Mindsweep. “The two that helped you.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say it was the both of them that helped. It was just the big guy. Think his name was Roller.”

“Roller?”

“Yeah, and then his little friend, the super jumpy one, he, uh...he called him ‘Nitro’.”

“Nitro?”

“Yeah. Think it might be short for something.” Mindsweep tilted his helm to the side, appearing a little puzzled by Dreadnought’s interest. “Why? You’re not thinking about going after them, too?”

“Not at all,” Dreadnought replied, walking over to look over Flatline’s shoulder as the medic continued to look through the contents of the box. The blue and silver mech then looked back to Mindsweep and smiled, showing a flash of fangs with the expression. “But courtesy does demand that I should at least thank them for having provided assistance...even if it wasn’t completely necessary.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s true, I just-”

“They broke a set of the test tubes!” Flatline exclaimed in horror.

Grumbling at having been interrupted again, Mindsweep crossed his arms with a huff and looked to Dreadnought expectantly. The larger mech rolled his green optics and shook his helm before turning their attention to Flatline, who appeared to be a mix of appalled and furious.

“Very well, you can have them as patients,” Dreadnought stated with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Though his expression was still that of a furious scowl, Flatline nodded approvingly and turned his attention back to the box of supplies. He then began to gingerly pick out the shards of glass, wincing at them as though they were physically paining him to look over.

“Uh, hello? Have we forgotten that I was almost _mugged_?!” Mindsweep screeched, waving his hands.

“Of course not!” Dreadnought scoffed, walking over to the smaller mech and giving them a pat on the helm. “We’ll most assuredly be paying them a, ahem, visit. And when we do, you’re allowed to choose whatever you feel is a proper punishment for their transgressions. Just note that we can’t kill them. They’re Flatline’s patients now, after all.”

“Blech. That’s almost punishment enough in and of itself,” Mindsweep replied with a grimace.

“I noticed that you said ‘almost’,” Dreadnought commented with a smirk, eyeing the mnemosurgeon.

“Well, yeah. I mean, they did almost mug me. I want them to know who they messed with.”

“Oh, _that_ you most certainly don’t need to worry about. They’ll know.” Dreadnought paused, then shrugged quickly. “Now if it’s the last thing they remember, all the better.”

“Heh, I can arrange that,” Mindsweep answered morbidly, letting the mnemosurgery needles slide out of his digits.


	13. With No Regrets These Steps Are Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an attempt to both calm down Nitrogear and get their minds off recent occurrences, Roller suggests they go to a nearby bookstore. In there, Nitrogear finds and gives to Roller a book that changes both their lives forever.

“Nitro! Slow down!” Roller called, struggling to keep up with the smaller mech through the now thicker crowds. “Nitro! You’re kind of forgetting that I’m not as fast as you are!”

Appearing not to hear the orange mech, Nitrogear continued to weave in and out of the crowds, his smaller size and stature allowing him to do so. Roller, on the other hand, had to fight to get through, and even though he tried to be as mindful of the other mechs as possible, he still got a few dirty looks and some rather crass words. Earlier that morning, his size had proven to be useful, now it was just a hinderance.

Narrowing his optics in frustration, Roller focused on the quickly fading sight of Nitrogear, before trying again to get their attention.

“Nitrogear!”

The orange and chrome mech stumbled to a halt before turning around to look up at Roller, blinking his yellow optics quickly. He made a grimace before crossing his arms and looking around. It was only when Roller got closer did Nitrogear turn their attention back to the larger mech.

“What’s the hurry? I’m pretty sure the show on tonight is a rerun,” Roller said with a half-hearted grin.

“Ah, right. Heh, sorry.” Nitrogear suddenly startled, jumping a little closer to Roller, before looking back up at them. “I guess I’m seeing bad guys everywhere now, and it’s got me jumping at shadows.”

Ventilating a long sigh of exasperation, Roller nodded in wordless agreement. As frustrating as it may be, he couldn’t fault Nitrogear for being a bit jumpy after everything that had happened. However, it certainly wouldn’t help things if they took off like a shot into the crowds and got separated from Roller. Shaking his helm, the orange mech looked back to the smaller mech, who was shifting around nervously.

“Calm down, speedy. Nobody’s going to get you, I promise.”

“Yeah, just...yeah, you’re right.”

“That’s right. Now, come on. It’s getting pretty crowded out here and I stand out like a hazard sign.”

Snickering quietly, Nitrogear fell in step alongside Roller, his nerves helping him keep the pace. He stayed as close as he could to the larger mech without accidentally bumping into them, or worse, tripping them, but couldn’t shake the unnerving feeling that they were being followed. Of course, in these sorts of crowds, it’d be nearly impossible to tell, but the worry was there, nonetheless.

“Hey, look at that.”

Roller’s voice pulled Nitrogear out of his thoughts, and he turned his attention to where Roller was looking. Unfortunately, the thick crowds made it impossible to see exactly what the larger mech was focused on, and Nitrogear hopped up and down a little, though the effort was in vain.

“Look at what? I can’t see a thing.”

“Alright, alright. Don’t jump,” Roller chuckled. He then looked back to where he had been previously. “It’s a bookstore, from the looks of it. Or, at least, they sell books according to one of their signs. Want to go take a look?”

“A bookstore?” Nitrogear repeated. He paused for a moment, then nodded in agreement. It’d be a nice distraction after everything that happened, and if his uneasy feeling of being followed was correct, this might be a way to lose whoever was following them. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go. Might find something interesting. Maybe even life changing!”

“Well, I don’t know if I’d go as far as say we’ll find something as pivotal as life changing, but I’d settle for interesting.”

The two made their way to the bookstore, Roller taking the lead but making sure that Nitrogear stayed close by and didn’t get lost in the throngs of other mechs. As they neared the store, Roller felt a small wave of relief go through him when he saw that the store appeared to be relatively empty. The thick crowds in the streets were starting to feel a bit suffocating, and the orange mech wasn’t going to deny that it was a little nerve-wracking to try and constantly keep a watch on Nitrogear.

There was a quiet ding to alert the shopkeeper that the two had entered the shop, and Roller was pleasantly surprised that he didn’t have to duck in order to get through the doorway. Nitrogear skittered alongside him, still staying close. He glanced around nervously before looking up at Roller expectantly, appearing to not know what to do.

“Let’s go see what they’ve got here,” Roller said, keeping his voice down so as to not attract too much attention to either of themselves.

“Y-yeah. Good idea.”

Walking around until they were alone in one of the aisles, Roller then turned to Nitrogear, causing the smaller mech to startle and shuffle back a few steps. Ventilating an exasperated sigh, the orange mech knelt down so he could talk to the scrawny mech optic-to-optic, glad that there were only a few twinges of soreness in his joints now.

“Nitro, buddy, you have _got_ to calm down,” Roller murmured, giving the smaller mech a concerned look.

“I am calm!” Nitrogear exclaimed. Realizing how loud his outburst was, he clapped a hand over his mouth and hesitated for a little before speaking again. When he did, his voice was considerably quieter. “I am calm, Roller.”

“You’re still stuttering and have been so close to me that I half-expected to trip over you,” Roller stated, giving Nitrogear a knowing, pointed look.

Falling silent and hunching over a little, Nitrogear rubbed his arm slowly, knowing that he’d been caught in his lie. He muttered a few things that were unintelligible, then looked back to Roller before shrugging quickly, letting his hands fall down to his sides.

“I...just…” He frowned, trying to get his train of thought back in line before he continued. After a few moments, he was able to. “You know that those who get on Dreadnought’s radar disappear, right? Especially when they’re nobodies like me.”

Shaking his helm, Roller tried to recall the two times that he’d met Dreadnought. Both times they had been mannerly, but in that conceited, suspicious way that set off alarms in Roller’s mind. He also remembered that Dreadnought was a green spark, and a feared one at that, but for the life of him, Roller couldn’t recall _what_ Dreadnought’s Ability was. It wasn’t pleasant, that much was for sure, and it made most stay far away from Dreadnought.

“Listen, Nitro, I’ve...met Dreadnought a couple of times,” Roller explained slowly, trying to choose his words wisely out of concern of making the scrawny mech panic again. He watched Nitrogear’s expression closely for any hints of a freakout. “He’s scary, no doubt, but he’s also got a...way of doing things.”

“What kind of way?” Nitrogear asked, his voice now barely above a squeak.

“It’s got a specific sort of rhyme and reason to it,” Roller continued, lightly setting a hand on Nitrogear’s shoulder to keep them calm. “I know he keeps some pretty scary company, and-”

“-and he’s downright terrifying,” Nitrogear muttered miserably.

“That he is. _But_ he doesn’t pick on those that haven’t torqued him off. And I know he’s got a particular soft spot for that one, uh...Mindsweep. So the fact that we helped out Mindsweep and kept him from getting beat up has _got_ to play out in our favor.” Roller paused, studied Nitrogear’s expression, and, upon seeing that they still looked quite distressed, added a little bit more. “Long enough for us to get out of here, okay?”

Stopping, Nitrogear thought over what Roller had told him, then looked up at the larger mech with the smallest glint of hope in his optics.

“You really think so?”

“Yeah, I do,” Roller lied. He hated lying to Nitrogear, especially now, but he honestly had no idea how Dreadnought was going to react. If they did at all. What mattered most, now, though, was just getting out of here before either of them had a chance to find out.

Nitrogear remained still, then, after a few moments, made a short noise and shuffled a little closer to Roller until he was able to rest his forehelm against the larger mech’s chassis. Though he made a short grunt of surprise, Roller didn’t move, nor did his gaze from Nitrogear. After a few moments, though, he pulled himself out of his surprise...and very gently and carefully embraced Nitrogear, drawing them just a bit closer.

Though the yellow-opticed mech squeaked shortly, having not expected the action, he quickly calmed. If anything, he seemed to relax a bit more, optics dimming and frame ceasing its intermittent trembling. Nitrogear stared ahead blankly for a few moments, faintly able to hear Roller’s spark pulsing in its chamber deep within their chassis. Then, though he didn’t move from where he was, Nitrogear made a short, nervous chuckle.

“Heh… Hope this doesn’t make things too awkward.”

Unable to help but grin and chuckle himself, Roller ventilated a sigh, glad that Nitrogear appeared to have finally, completely calmed down. He even went so far as to slowly rub the smaller mech’s back for a brief moment before answering.

“Hardly.” Roller made a short scoff, still grinning. “Hells, we were talking about buying a ship together. Going to take quite a bit to make things awkward between us now, don’t you think?”

“Heh heh, yeah. Guess that’s true, huh?” Nitrogear murmured, finding himself not wanting to move. As silly as it may have seemed, this was probably the safest and most comforted he’d felt in...well, a very, very long while. “Roller?”

“Yeah?”

“You think-”

“Um, can I help you two find something?”

The foreign voice made both mechs perk up, and they looked down at the end of the aisle to see a somewhat confused shopkeeper looking at them. They had a polite, albeit perplexed, smile on their expression, as though they weren’t entirely sure if they should have interrupted.

“Ah, uh...sorry about that,” Roller stated, slowly standing so as to let Nitrogear shuffle back. He gave the shopkeeper a sheepish smile and rubbed the back of his neck. “We were really just browsing. Don’t know if-”

“You have any poetry?” Nitrogear interrupted, obviously flustered.

“Poetry?” the shopkeeper repeated, appearing to relax now that they were talking to potential customers. “Ah, yes. Yes, we do. You’re actually just one aisle away.”

Giving Nitrogear a knowing look, which was returned with a wide, knowing grin, Roller sighed shortly and shook his helm. They followed the shopkeeper to the next aisle to their left. Once there, the shopkeeper motioned over the surprisingly large collection that they had.

“We’ve got a selection here. Were you looking for anything in particular?”

“Not really. Just browsing, at the moment,” Nitrogear replied before Roller could say anything.

“No problem! Just let me know if you need anything,” the shopkeeper said cheerily before walking off.

Once they were alone again, Roller looked down at Nitrogear with a smirk.

“You’re bound and determined to out me as a poetry reader, aren’t you?” he chuckled with a quirked helm ridge.

“Not at all. I’m trying to keep you safe from the doldrums of boredom when we’re flying around in empty space,” came the quick reply as Nitrogear looked over the poetry collections quickly.

“And what about you? I have a feeling that _you’d_ be the more destructive one if bored.”

“I’ll just sleep, thanks. Besides, I-hey, what’s that?”

Stopping mid-sentence when he spied a datapad that appeared to have been hastily shoved underneath the bottom-most shelf, Nitrogear delicately plucked up the datapad before looking it over. He activated and read the title, frowning a little in concentration.

“‘ _Towards Peace_ ’?” he read questioningly.

Recognizing the title as the book that he had been advised to read, and had been trying to find, before he was...abandoned, Roller stopped and turned to Nitrogear. He quickly held out his hand, eager to see if this was, in fact, the same book with the same author.

“Hey, let me see that for a bit.”

“Doesn’t seem to be a lot of poetry, really,” Nitrogear said with a shrug as he handed over the book. “Not sure it’s something that I’d really give a read.”

“Yeah, well, let’s just say that this was a recommendation to me before...everything happened,” Roller murmured as he began to read through a few pages.

“Really?”

Only nodding in response, Roller narrowed his optics, his left optic, surprisingly, focusing as well as the right one. Reading over the words, the large mech felt his spark oddly warmed by them. Mention of being more than your alt-mode, becoming more than what you were told to me. If anything, he certainly appreciated the fact that the book had been recommended to him.

“Roller? Cybertron to Roller, come in, Roller.”

Nitrogear’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and Roller blinked quickly before looking back to the smaller mech. They were giving him a puzzled look, and already had picked out two other books.

“You doing alright there, big guy? You seemed to drift off for a bit.”

“Ah, yeah, sorry about that,” Roller replied quickly with a grin. “I was just...reading over this. It seems like a really...really good book.”

“Yeah? Well, get it,” Nitrogear said, motioning to ‘ _Towards Peace_ ’ with a free hand. “Might as well while we’re here.”

“Yeah, but...I’m not sure about spending the money.”

“Oh, come on,” Nitrogear groaned with a roll of his optics. He tried to playfully elbow Roller, but only succeeded in throwing himself off balance. Once he’d composed himself, the yellow-opticed mech continued. “Getting one book won’t kill you.”

“I…” Roller drifted off and looked back to the book he still had in hand. As much as he hated to spend the shanix that they’d just gotten, he wasn’t going to deny that he really did want the book. Maybe...maybe they could get it once they’d gotten a bit more saved up. So, with that in mind, Roller sighed and shook his helm as he put the book back onto a shelf. “It’s okay. We can pick it up next time, yeah?”

Frowning in exasperation, Nitrogear suddenly darted around Roller before zipping off.

“Nitro! Nitro, get back here!” Roller whispered, trying to catch the much faster mech. “Don’t you-!”

Roller was too late. Nitrogear had scampered off with all three books in hand and darted away. Sighing heavily, the orange mech shook his helm and walked towards the end of the aisle. Even though he didn’t like the idea of spending the shanix, Roller was surprised at how quickly the regret faded. If he was going to be completely honest with himself, he was actually quite happy that he hadn’t been able to stop Nitrogear…

 

* * *

 

“You’re really proud of yourself for being able to get passed me, aren’t you?” Roller chuckled, eyeing Nitrogear as the smaller mech skipped alongside.

“Maybe. I’m just surprised you let me buy you that book after all.”

“Yeah, well...I’d be lying if I said I regret not stopping you.”

“See?” Nitrogear pointed out. He then shook his helm, but didn’t break stride. “You need to stop being so hard on yourself. At least let yourself have a nice thing every now and then.”

“I just don’t want too many nice things to equal a not-so-nice ship.”

“For Primus’ sake, Roller, we’re not going to buy everything we lay sight on,” Nitrogear cried, throwing his hands up in the air. “It’s one book! One...really cheap book, now that you mention it.”

“Cheap?”

“Yeah, uh...free, actually,” Nitrogear replied, blinking quickly in confusion as he slowed down a little. “The shopkeeper said they didn’t stock that one, so they had no idea how it got into the store. They just let me have it.”

“You mean we might have just walked off with someone else’s book?” Roller asked in mild horror.

“I kind of doubt it, big guy. The shopkeeper said they hadn’t seen anybody reading that. In fact, they seemed rather glad to get rid of it.”

Frowning in confusion, Roller looked back down to ‘ _Towards Peace_ ’, studying it a bit closer. He hadn’t been able to see any defects with the datapad itself, and it seemed to work just fine, so that ruled out any malfunctions being the reason for the datapad being abandoned. And from what Roller had read, the subject matter itself was insightful and revolutionary, so it didn’t make sense to get rid of the datapad on a matter of content.

Well, maybe the one who had tossed aside the book had been a small-minded, and _privileged_ , individual.

The thought brought up a surprising amount of animosity in Roller’s spark, and he had to mentally remind himself to ease his grip on the datapad. The last thing he wanted to do was break it. Especially since it was a gift, his first gift, from Nitrogear.

Looking down at the smaller mech that was walking beside him, Roller studied Nitrogear for a long moment. It was odd, really, how things had played out. As close-minded as it may have been, Roller hadn’t been ready to give Nitrogear a second thought when he first met the yellow-opticed mech. He’d thought it would have boiled down to him providing a bit of security for Nitrogear in return for their assistance. After that, Roller had planned to be on his way. Alone.

Now, though, things were completely different.

In fact, in all truthfulness, Roller felt like he couldn’t leave _without_ Nitrogear at this point. He wouldn’t leave without him.

“Hey, Nitro?” Roller asked, trying to get himself out of thoughts that were a bit too deep for him at the moment.

“Yeah?”

“You ever have a job?”

“You mean, have I been a bum my whole life?”

“That came out wrong,” Roller replied quickly with a wince. He shook his helm and tried again. “I meant, have you worked before?”

“Uh, yeah. I did. Seems like forever ago, but I did,” Nitrogear replied, sounding a bit morose.

“Really? What did you do?”

“Heh, security controller.”

“Security controller?” Roller asked in disbelief. “You worked security? Huh, wonder why I never met you, then. At least, in the workplace.”

“Probably because I was one of those that always worked behind the scenes,” Nitrogear replied with a smirk. He then shrugged offhandedly. “That and I worked for a company that was contracted out. You worked directly for the powers that be, didn’t you?”

“Ah, yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“Yeah, see, I worked for a third party company. And the security that I worked was those little security cameras, sensors, and monitor bots that you’d see flying around.”

“Those annoying, little things that always got in the way at crime scenes?” Roller asked incredulously. “You worked those?”

“Hey! We had a quota and requirements that we had to meet,” Nitrogear protested quickly. “If we didn’t, well...then we could lose our job.”

“Right, sorry. Nothing personal. Just...they got in the way a lot.”

“I know. It wasn’t on purpose, you know,” Nitrogear explained as they got closer to the small box that they now both called home. “Just...had to.”

“Yeah. Oh, well.” Roller paused, then perked up a little. “Means you’re pretty good at working with control interfaces and such, though, doesn’t it?”

“Heh, it’s been ages, but I think I’ve remembered some of it.”

“In that case, I hereby appoint you our ship’s pilot.”

Stopping in mid-step, Nitrogear looked up at Roller with wide optics, then quickly scampered forward so that he could catch up.

“Me? Pilot?”

“Yeah, sure. It makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“I...guess so,” Nitrogear said slowly, scratching the side of his helm thoughtfully. “I just think I’ll freak out and crash the ship.”

“You better not!” Roller laughed, stopping at the doorway to their small ‘home’. “Ships aren’t cheap, you know.”

“So long as I have to deal with anything scary, we’ll be fine,” Nitrogear replied primly as he tapped in the security code.

With its almost trademark screech, the door slid open and Nitrogear stepped in, flicking on the lights as he did so. He looked around for a few moments before walking over and moving around some of the few books he had to make room for the three new ones.

“You know, I wonder if I’m going to miss this place,” the scrawny mech commented, straightening his posture with a wince. “Had to call it home for so long that it’s pretty much become that.”

“Hmm… Maybe you’ll miss being able to call a place home, but that can be fixed, don’t you think?” Roller pointed out, carefully setting ‘ _Towards Peace_ ’ beside the other two books of poetry and making a mental note to read more of it later that evening.

“You’re probably right.” Nitrogear walked over and hopped up into the makeshift chair. He turned and looked over the back at Roller. “Aw, that means I’ll actually have to clean, huh?”

“Afraid so, little guy.”

“I don’t know if I like this idea any more,” Nitrogear replied, slouching over and sulking.

Laughing, Roller walked over and leaned against the back of the chair, careful not to shift it too much. He looked down at Nitrogear, who was still sulking. Quirking a helm ridge, Roller reached down and playfully, and very carefully, tugged on one of the handlebars that were attached to Nitrogear’s helm.

“Aw, come on. You don’t have to be so sulky about it. If you ask nicely, we can take turns cleaning up the ship.”

Immediately, Nitrogear’s expression switched from one of pouting to a wide-opticed, hopeful stare right up at Roller. It earned another bout of laughter from the large mech, and Roller couldn’t help but shake his helm. He ventilated a long sigh and glanced around for a few moments, before looking back at Nitrogear. The smaller mech had gone back to sitting in the chair, and looked like they were about to turn on the small television in front of it.

“Ah, hey, Nitro?”

Stopping, Nitrogear perked up and turned around again.

“Yeah?”

“Uh...thanks.”

Staring at Roller and blinking in confusion, Nitrogear was quiet for a moment before tilting his helm to the side.

“For what?”

“For...well, you know, for everything,” Roller replied, wanting to make his words meaningful but not too overwhelming. He gave the smaller mech a small, but sincere, smile. “I probably wouldn’t have made it without you.”

Appearing surprised by the statement, Nitrogear started to say something in response, then stopped, thought for a moment, and then spoke.

“No need to really thank me,” he said softly, then smiled back at Roller. “I think it worked out for the both of us, don’t you?”

Stopping, Roller mulled over the statement, then smiled and nodded when he realized that Nitrogear was right.

“Yeah, heh. Guess you’re right.”

There was a somewhat awkward stretch of silence between the two, but eventually Nitrogear made a small noise and scooted off the chair.

“Um, did you want to sit down?” he offered.

“But where would you sit?” Roller asked, glancing around the room quickly.

“Um, I was thinking that, um...well…” Nitrogear drifted off, tapping the tips of his index digits together nervously. He glanced up at Roller, then back to the chair, but only murmured something unintelligible and continued to tap his digit tips together.

Though he was confused for a long moment, Roller caught on and smiled partially before nodding. He motioned for Nitrogear to step aside, and when the smaller mech did so, Roller sat down on the chair with a contented sigh. He waited for a moment, letting his frame relax against the seat, then looked over at Nitrogear, who was still shuffling nervously from pede to pede.

“Come here, scrawny,” Roller chuckled, holding out a hand.

Though he didn’t say anything, the smile that broke across Nitrogear’s expression was response enough. The yellow-opticed mech scampered over and, with Roller’s help, clambered up into the larger mech’s lap. Carefully leaning against Roller, Nitrogear shifted his weight a little to get comfortable, and once he was, he smiled faintly up at the orange mech.

“Thanks, big guy.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” Roller replied with a knowing grin as he draped his arm gently across Nitrogear and turned his attention to the television before clicking it on.


	14. Reading The First Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Roller and Nitrogear grow closer, so does Dreadnought and his crew, albeit with far darker and crueler intents in mind.

The drone of the television hissed out through the cool air, but it took a little while before it roused Roller from his sleep. With a groan, the larger mech shifted his weight in the seat, looking around slowly as he let his vision focus. He noted, with a bit of excitement, that his left optic seemed to be having less and less trouble focusing when coming back online. Granted, there were almost always going to be the scars, but scars were something that Roller could live with. A damaged, useless optic was a little harder to work with.

The feel of weight in his lap made Roller pause, and for a few split seconds, he almost reflexively tried to shove the unknown weight off him. Fortunately, however, he looked down and saw Nitrogear, who was now curled up in Roller's lap, helm resting against the larger mech's chassis, sleeping soundly. In fact, it was probably the most peaceful that Roller had ever seen the scrawny mech rest. While they would occasionally twitch a little or mumble something unintelligible, it was nothing like the restless tossing and turning that seemed to constantly plague Nitrogear's rest.

Unable to help the small smile that tugged at the unmarred side of his mouth, Roller stared down at the smaller mech for a moment. He didn't want to wake them, as there wasn't really any need to, and, to be fair, Roller was comfortable in his seat at the moment, too.

Instead, the orange mech lightly traced along the bent handlebar that was connected to Nitrogear's helm. A frown replacing his smile, Roller silently wished he'd been able to leave more of an 'impression' on the mech that had hurt Nitrogear so badly. At the very least, make sure that they never lay a digit on Nitrogear again.

...but Roller could do that now, couldn't he? Or rather, prevent it from ever happening again.

The thought, while not entirely foreign, made the orange mech stop, and he gazed down at his hand on Nitrogear's helm. Of course, he'd already more or less signed himself over to being Nitrogear's protector throughout whatever travels they may have had in the future, but the fact that he'd already committed himself, spark and all, to the idea, was a bit surprising...and unexpected.

The thought of his spark, however, only made Roller's frown deepen, and he withdrew his hand.

His spark. Right. His green, useless spark.

Ventilating a long sigh, Roller slouched in the seat, careful not to wake Nitrogear. What good was he if he couldn't, at the very least, tap into whatever Ability he was supposed to be graced with? Sure, he was stronger than most and could take and deal out a harder beating than most mechs out there, but that wasn't anything special. Just made him a heavier bruiser.

He was supposed to be special. Someone that had an Ability that nobody else did. An Ability that Roller could use at his whim with precision and without fail. ...and he had none of that.

Worse yet, he didn't even know where to start if he was going to try and awaken or activate this mysterious Ability that he was supposed to have. It wasn't like he could go to someone and ask for their guidance.

Then a thought shot through Roller's mind. One that was bitter enough it made him stop cold.

What if he didn't have an Ability? What if there wasn't one to activate? What if he was...defective? Someone that had all the looks and appearance of a powerful green spark, but was little more than a big bruiser with a bit of extra armor.

The thought made Roller feel sick, and he gripped the arm of the chair to try and keep his composure. He wasn't sure how he would manage if his fears ended up being true. That he was just...a nobody. That his teammates had had good reason to abandon him. Why wouldn't they? Why not abandon something that's defective and can't live up to or operate at its full potential?

Gritting his dentae, his digit tips digging into the chair arm, Roller tried to keep his ventilation steady. Mentally reminding himself that if he got upset, the only thing he would accomplish was waking up Nitrogear, the orange mech struggled to keep what composure his thoughts had left him with.

It wasn't as easy as he'd hoped.

The idea of being abandoned because he truly was useless lodged in Roller's thoughts and wouldn't go away. Instead, the more he tried to dismiss it or stamp it down, the deeper it seemed to dig in, little shards of the hateful idea splintering and seeping into the rest of his thoughts. It kept burrowing its way further down until-

"Roller?"

Nitrogear's voice made the orange mech snap out of his spiral downwards, and Roller looked down at the yellow-opticed mech. They were slowly waking up, and, with a large yawn to give their ventilation system a good start and a stretch to flex joints, Nitrogear turned his still half-lidded gaze up to Roller. Already, a small frown of concern had started to spread across the scrawny mech's sleepy features, and they lightly poked at Roller's chassis.

"You know...I can hear when you get upset," Nitrogear finally commented. "What's up?"

"You...can?" Roller asked in bewilderment.

"Yeah. Your spark starts sounding like it's going to rip right out of its casing," Nitrogear replied, rolling over onto his back so that he look up at Roller easier. He tilted his helm to the side. "Kind of...does weird things."

"Weird things?" Roller repeated. Part of him was trying to avoid the topic of why he was upset, while the other part of him was genuinely curious as to what Nitrogear was talking about.

"I dunno'. Just...there's a whine and...kind of makes my frame hurt. Like I've been through a marathon or something," Nitrogear continued, twiddling his digits absentmindedly. He then shrugged offhandedly. "It's probably nothing. I'm probably just being a wuss about the whole thing."

"Oh, right. Probably nothing," Roller agreed, nodding his helm slowly. He glanced away, gaze on nothing in particular, as his thoughts already threatened to drift back to where they had previously been.

"So...?" Nitrogear asked, prodding the larger mech again.

"So what?"

"So what's wrong? You can't blame it on the television. That hasn't been playing anything but static for a while. You have a nightmare or something?"

"Ah, yeah," Roller lied. "Something like that."

"Anything you want to talk about?"

"It's okay. Wasn't anything that you could really make sense of," Roller mumbled, his gaze still somewhat averted.

"You know...I'm slightly inclined not to believe you," Nitrogear replied with a weak smirk. He then yawned and stretched again. "...but I'm still half asleep, so you get a pass."

Chuckling and shifting a little as Nitrogear sat up, Roller tried to put on a somewhat more confident expression. He was happy to let the subject drop and move onto something else.

“Sleep well?” he asked.

“Can’t complain,” Nitrogear replied, grinning and slumping over a little as he relaxed. He then looked up at Roller. “What about you?”

“Not too bad. If anything, it was the lack of someone talking on the television that woke me up.” Roller laughed shortly and shook his helm. “I sound like one of those really old bots, don’t I?”

“You’re going to need one impressive cane, buddy,” Nitrogear snickered.

“Hey, now… Keep up that sort of talk and I’ll use my cane to dent your helm.”

Snickering again, Nitrogear ducked his helm and looked over at the television, which was still droning static. The yellow-opticed mech appeared to still be half-asleep, and it took them a few moments before they spoke.

“Hrm… Wonder if anything else is on. The background noise would be better than just static, in any case.”

“Well, let’s see,” Roller stated, wrapping an arm around Nitrogear and scooping up the smaller mech as he rose from the chair.

The action was more than enough to make Nitrogear snap fully awake, and he made a short squeak before clinging to Roller. Looking down at the floor quickly, the scrawny mech then looked over at Roller with a surprised expression. The orange mech just chuckled and quirked a helm ridge, tilting his helm to the side.

“You doing okay there, runty?”

“Uh, yeah,” Nitrogear replied. “Just wasn’t expecting you to pick me up, I guess, heh.”

“Would you rather I do the alternative?”

Thought it took a few moments, what the alternative was clicked in Nitrogear’s thoughts and his optics widened before he shook his helm quickly. His grip on Roller’s armor also increased, though it was more out of reflex than anything else.

“That’s what I thought,” Roller chuckled as he walked over and began flipping through the available channels on the television. He continued to hold Nitrogear as he did so, humming in thought as he watched for anything that might be halfway good to watch. “...huh, nothing so far.”

“Ooh...try channel 115,” Nitrogear instructed, waving a hand at the television. “They usually have pretty good, early morning stuff on.”

Sure enough, a relatively clear and audible transmission of what looked to be the daily news appeared on the screen when Roller flicked to the channel. Standing up straight and shifting Nitrogear a little in his arms, the orange mech stared down at the television for a few minutes, waiting to see if the reception would hold. Once he was satisfied, Roller stepped back over to the chair and sat down.

Once he was situated, Nitrogear looked up at Roller with a mildly mischievous smirk. The orange mech noticed and returned the expression, shrugging quickly.

“What?”

“So...does this mean I don’t have to walk around any more? You going to carry me?”

“Hah! Hardly!” Roller laughed. Noticing the sulking look that crossed Nitrogear’s features, the large mech continued. “I just figured I’d take pity on you since you were still half asleep.”

“So...what if I fall back asleep?” Nitrogear asked with a quick grin.

“Eh, we’ll see. Who knows? Maybe I’ll just toss you up in the air to wake you up.”

For a brief moment, Nitrogear looked panicked, but then he noticed the smirk on Roller’s features and the smaller mech began lightly and playfully punching at Roller’s shoulder and chassis.

“You big bully! Don’t scare me like that!”

Laughing and feigning pain at the faint, almost unnoticeable, punches, Roller playfully grabbed both of Nitrogear’s fists and held the smaller mech’s hands up over their helm. He then grinned down at Nitrogear, quirking a helm ridge before he spoke.

“Well, now… Got any ideas to get yourself out of this predicament?”

For a few moments, Nitrogear was still, looking between his two ‘captured’ hands quickly. He then began to struggle with as much might as he could muster. Which, compared to Roller’s, was practically nil. Even so, that didn’t stop the scrawny mech from putting in considerable effort. He even went so far as to try and brace a pede against Roller’s thigh and pull with a straining grunt before collapsing in obvious defeat.

“Well, I guess this is how I die,” Nitrogear sulked, making a face.

“Oh, come off it,” Roller chuckled, releasing the smaller mech’s hands. He lightly patted the top of Nitrogear’s helm. “I wouldn’t let you die and you know that good and well.”

“Aww… You do like me,” Nitrogear replied, blinking quickly and giving Roller a somewhat goofy grin.

“Well… Yeah,” Roller said softly, after a few moments of thought. He then looked up at Nitrogear, curious and a little nervous as to what their response would be. “I do like you. ...a lot.”

Stopping, optics widening a little, Nitrogear stared at Roller for a long moment of silence. His yellow optics flicked over the larger mech’s frame quickly, studying for for any hint that they may be joking. When Nitrogear realized that they weren’t, the smaller mech made a short noise and immediately calmed. They tapped their digit tips together quickly, appearing to be a mix of surprised and flustered.

Finally, though, Nitrogear smiled up at Roller, this time with complete sincerity, and made a short, nervous chuckle. He rubbed the back of his neck before hugging himself loosely.

“That’s-that’s good,” he stammered. “Like-like you a lot, too.”

Relief and something close to elation washed through Roller and his smile widened a little. Even though he didn’t know what to say, the large mech didn’t resist when Nitrogear scooted a little closer and nuzzled against his chassis. Hugging the smaller mech as tight as he dared, Roller cuddled them as best he could without making it feel like he was smothering them. His spark was practically racing now, but for far different reasons.

...maybe the future wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

 

* * *

 

The sneering grimace on Dreadnought’s features was only concealed by the Energon that had splattered across his face. While he normally would let Flatline work alone, these particular ‘patients’ required his attention, as well. They had been stupid enough to attack Mindsweep in some foolhardy attempt at getting at him.

Well, they had gotten Dreadnought, in a sense of the word. But the blue and silver mech was almost positive this wasn’t what they had in mind.

“This one didn’t last nearly as long as the first,” Flatline commented with airy disappointment as he hoisted up a dismembered, stripped down arm.

“Well, don’t worry, there’s still another,” Dreadnought replied, looking over his pointed digit tips as opposed to looking at the ripped off limb. He then glanced over at the cage they were keeping their third ‘patient’ in. It appeared that the electrical, concussive surge that they had dealt them was still in effect, which was all for the better. Dreadnought didn’t want to listen to them shriek and bemoan their compatriot’s fate. “So don’t get your circuits in too much of a snarl.”

Glancing up at his commander, using the gleam of his glasses to conceal the look, Flatline simply huffed in response before looking over what he had done to his current ‘patient’. Their armor had held up surprisingly well throughout the process of surgically removing it, but the bleeding had been more profuse than anticipated. It had made for a very messy procedure, and Flatline had, regrettably, burned out a laser scalpel in a fit of rage when he put it through one of the mech’s optics.

It wasn’t a big matter, in the grand scheme of things, as he did have more on hand. But Flatline hated wasting his tools, even if stabbing the mech’s optic had made him feel better in his moment of anger.

Other than the profuse bleeding and expected struggling and writhing that the ‘patient’ had put up, they had been a fairly standard procedure. Flatline was eager to see how their armor fit on one of his newest creations, particularly since he didn’t like leaving the remade protoforms armorless for very long. Hopefully, the armor would be a good fit and Flatline could move on to salvaging a few innards that could be used on an as-needed basis.

“Shall I awaken our next guest?” Dreadnought offered, motioning to the cage.

Brought out of his thoughts, Flatline looked at the taller mech and then the one captive in the cage before giving a quick nod. He then set to work preparing his second operating table. It was a bit larger and had heavier restraints, but given that the next ‘patient’ was bigger and expected to be stronger than the previous, the stronger restraints would be needed.

Working quickly, Flatline watched as Dreadnought walked over to the cage and began to drum his pointed digit tips on the metal top. As the blue and silver mech did so, crackles of green energy began to seep along their digits, then hand, then wrist, and then all the way up to their elbow before stopping. The crackles pulsed silently, brightly, and  rhythmically.

“Time to wake up,” Dreadnought announced loudly, his voice echoing around the metal room. When there was no reaction, the tall mech kicked the metal bottom of the cage roughly, jarring it and its prisoner. “I said, wake up!”

Making a low groan, the mech stirred slowly, his frame shaking as he struggled to get up to his hands and knees. They appeared to still be only half conscious, and they looked around weakly and blearily, obviously confused by their surroundings. In fact, they didn’t really react until Dreadnought crouched down and peered down at them between the bars of the cage.

The reaction was the mech yelping alarm and scooting back until they were pressed up against the farthest wall of the cage as hard as they could. Panic, fear, and horror of realization washed across their expression, and Flatline couldn’t help but smirk. There was no denying he found a bit of delight in the reaction that his commander could elicit from mechs.

“I’m guessing you recognize me, don’t you?” Dreadnought asked, his hand with the glowing crackles remaining on the top of the cage. Out of sight, for now, from the panicking mech.

“We-we didn’t m-mean to!” the mech spluttered. “We-!”

“Wait, wait,” Dreadnought interrupted with an icy chuckle, his green optics narrowing. “You ‘didn’t mean to’? Didn’t mean to what? Attack my subordinate? I’m afraid that that’s a pretty deliberate action. Don’t you think?”

Too terrified to answer, the mech only stayed scrunched up against the wall of the cage, trembling uncontrollably and staring at Dreadnought with wide, mortified optics. For a moment, Dreadnought appeared to simply gaze back lazily at the captive. Suddenly, the tall mech’s features contorted into a murderous scowl and he slammed his fist down on the top of the cage. Bolts of green energy sprang from the impact point and sizzled across the metal, leaving deep, smoldering grooves.

The sound and sudden jolt of the cage made the mech yelp shortly and scrabble around in a panic, even though they couldn’t go anywhere. Dreadnought watched them with narrowed optics, letting the mech have their moment of panic. If anything, the blue and silver mech found the entire scene rather hilarious. Finally, though, the mech stopped in the farthest corner of the cage, stammering almost unintelligible apologies and whimpers. He was curled up as tightly as he could manage, quaking hands clutching at the sides of his helm while his frame hiccuped with sobs.

“How pathetic,” Dreadnought spat, standing. He then looked over the damage that he had done to the top of the cage, and, after a short noise of discontent, looked over at Flatline. “Is the table ready?”

“Indeed, it is.”

Whatever else Dreadnought was going to say was cut off by the imprisoned mech’s frantic shrieks and sounds of them fighting to try and get free. Dreadnought sighed heavily and rolled his optics, letting the prisoner flail around in vain for a few moments, before opening the top of the cage. Given the damage that it had sustained, it was surprising that the door still opened, but it did...albeit with a spray of sparks and a loud, metallic groan.

Reaching down, Dreadnought snagged the panicked mech with his clawed digits, but, given their resistance and how heavy they were, Dreadnought had to use both hands to haul the prisoner out and drag them across the floor. As he did so, he gave them a couple of sharp kicks in their already damaged legs for good measure, and unceremoniously slammed them down onto the operating table.

“Enough, you sniveling mess!” Dreadnought snapped.

His words, though, seemed to have the opposite effect, as the mech only screamed louder as they tried to fight against both Dreadnought’s and Flatline’s grips. The mech was desperately pleading for mercy or help, rapidly alternating between the two as they began to lose all sense of reason. With each shackle and restraint that was locked onto them, the mech seemed to struggle more and more. It even got to the point that, when Flatline went to restrain their right wrist, the mech yanked back hard enough to tear the joint. Energon and sparks sprayed from torn wires and damaged armor, but it didn’t even make Flatline pause.

If anything, it only seemed to anger the medic further, and he grabbed the wrist restraint and slammed it shut around the unfortunate victim’s wrist. More Energon sprayed up from the open wounds, and immediately began to well up around the metal clasp. Making a scoff at the screams of pain that eventually dissolved into whimpers, Flatline wiped away a few, stray flecks of Energon from his face.

“So messy,” he hissed. He then looked over at Dreadnought, who was eyeing the now restrained mech with a predatory gleam in his green optics. “Did you want to do something before I begin?”

“Hmm… What do you think of his optics?”

Leaning over, humming in thought, Flatline tapped his chin before giving an off-handed shrug.

“I don’t believe I would get any good use out of them,” he replied airily.

“Oh, good,” Dreadnought purred, lifting his hand as green energy began to crackle across it once again. He flexed his clawed digits, then aimed them at the victim’s face. “Hold his optics open, would you, Flatline?”

 

* * *

 

Nitrogear had dozed back to sleep.

Roller was pleasantly surprised, having gotten caught up in the local news report and completely missed the fact that the smaller mech had nodded off. So, when he looked back down and saw that Nitrogear was curled back up in his lap and sleeping soundly, the larger mech was glad that he hadn’t been commenting throughout the news report.

For a few moments, the orange mech contemplated waking Nitrogear up, if only long enough to set them on the berth and so that he could get one of the new books to read. Almost immediately, though, he dismissed the thought, not wanting to disturb the rare moment that Nitrogear could get some decent rest. Instead, he looked around quickly, trying to see if any of the new books were nearby.

There was one.

The one that Nitrogear had given him.

_Towards Peace_.

Reaching over with a low groan, trying to be as careful as he could not to wake up Nitrogear, Roller grasped towards the book, which was lying on the floor. Nitrogear must have left it there when they’d started watching television, and it was...almost...within...reach.

The tips of his digits grazed across the edge of the book, and Roller leaned over a bit further. He heard Nitrogear make a small noise and felt them shift around, but, fortunately, they stayed asleep. Wiggling his digits a little, Roller was finally able to move the datapad around so that he could grab it.

Sitting up with another, muted groan, the large mech reclined in the chair as much as it would allow, wincing as he felt his spinal strut twinge. He looked down at Nitrogear, checking to see if he had inadvertently woken them. They must have been in a deeper sleep than he thought, as the scrawny mech continued to snore softly and sleep on.

Ventilating a short sigh of relief, Roller relaxed and turned on the datapad. The screen glowed to life and, after a split second, the words flickered into focus.

Frowning a little as he scanned over the words, Roller shrugged lightly and, with the book in one hand and stroking Nitrogear’s helm and back with the other, he began to read _Towards Peace_.


	15. Cutthroat and Scrap Metal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Roller and Nitrogear get closer to their goal of leaving for exploration of the stars, and closer to each other, Dreadnought recruits a new mech into his ranks.  
> And he's going to need all the help he can get, if he wants to see his theory go into practice.

Roller was still reading _Towards Peace_ whenever Nitrogear began to rouse from their sleep.

The yellow-opticed mech made a soft groan and rubbed at the side of his helm, writhing around slowly in Roller’s lap as he woke up. He mumbled something unintelligible as his optics worked to focus, and then, upon realizing where he was, looked up at the larger mech.

“Roller?”

Too engrossed in his book, Roller didn’t hear Nitrogear. Instead, he continued to read over the words, optics flicking across the words quickly.

Frowning, Nitrogear reached up and gently tugged on Roller’s arm, trying to snap them out of their trance. It worked, and Roller made a short noise of surprise before looking down at the smaller mech. Even though he was obviously tired, the larger mech smiled and made a soft chuckle. He reached down and stroked Nitrogear’s helm with his free hand, reluctantly setting _Towards Peace_ aside for now.

“Have a good rest?” he asked, quirking a helm ridge.

“Yeah,” Nitrogear mumbled, flexing his arms to get the stiffness out of the joints. He then frowned and studied Roller’s tired features, tilting his helm to the side. “Looks like I can’t say the same for you, though.”

“Heh, nothing to worry about,” Roller replied. He jerked his helm towards where he had set down _Towards Peace_. “That book you gave me is surprisingly good. Couldn’t really put it down, you know?”

Staring at Roller in mild disbelief, Nitrogear then shrugged and ventilated a long sigh before stretching again. Even if the sleeping conditions hadn’t been ideal, the scrawny mech couldn’t deny that it had probably been some of the best sleep that he’d gotten in a long, long time. Something about having someone stronger, bigger, and, most importantly, willing to protect him, nearby had done wonders for quelling a lot of the worries that normally disrupted Nitrogear’s rest.

“Really?” Nitrogear asked, sitting up a bit straighter to peek at the book. “Huh, well… Glad you like it. Hope you get some good reads out of it.”

Carefully clambering off of Roller’s lap, Nitrogear stretched a bit more before looking around. He hummed in thought, tapping at his chin as he did so, then looked over at the larger mech. Roller had started to rise from his seat, and Nitrogear wasn’t going to deny that he felt a notable sense of relief that the larger mech seemed to be in considerably less pain and soreness.

“I wonder if there’s anything else around here that we could sell off,” Nitrogear commented aloud. He looked over at a few piles of scrap metal, including an old television unit that had long since quit working.

“Possibly,” Roller replied, looking over the small pile. He frowned and sighed shortly. “Though I don’t think we’d get a lot for it. Probably a lot less than what we did for the initial heap of scrap.”

“Yeah…” For a few moments, Nitrogear appeared to be rather glum with the assessment, but then he perked up and looked over at Roller. “But there’s a pretty big scrap dump a ways from here. We could probably drive out there and haul some of it back. I know a couple of guys who will take what they want from there to sell it off and make a few extra shanix. And since you seem to be a much better appraiser of the stuff than me, we-”

“Hold up, scrawny, who’s this ‘we’ that’s going to be hauling the scrap back?”

Stopping, appearing confused by the question, Nitrogear looked around quickly, as though half-expecting someone else to be in the room with them, before looking back up at Roller. He started to reply, then stopped, thought about what to say, then tried again.

“Uh… You and me?”

“No chance. You’re not hauling anything from a scrap dump,” Roller replied firmly, giving the smaller mech a knowing smirk. “You just stopped limping yesterday, and there’s no way I’m going to take you back to Syringe so soon.”

Grinning and rolling his optics before shaking his helm, Nitrogear nodded in agreement.

“Okay, okay. I’ll...help pick out the stuff, then,” he conceded. He paused and studied Roller. “You sure you’ll be okay with hauling scrap metal?”

“Nitro, I’ve hauled _other mechs_ before. Including some who didn’t want to be hauled around,” Roller chuckled. “Pretty sure some scrap metal isn’t going to be too difficult.”

“Oh, well then… That should make things easier.”

“I’d hope so,” Roller laughed. He glanced over at _Towards Peace_ , then pushed back the desire to pick up the book and start reading again. He grinned at Nitrogear and motioned to the doorway. “Come on, runty. Let’s go check out this magical scrap heap you’re talking about and see what there is to see.”

 

* * *

 

Lounging in his seat, Dreadnought looked over the information that he and Mindsweep had managed to pull up about both Roller and Nitrogear. He sipped at chilled Energon, his pedes propped up on a table. Occasionally, the tall, blue and silver mech would twitch the tips of his pedes, but for the most part, he was focused on his newfound reading material. Mindsweep was seated beside him, but was fixated on a handheld game system and mindful not to interrupt his commander’s reading.

“Hmph,” Dreadnought scoffed, setting aside his cube of Energon for the moment. “It seems our little friend Nitrogear is pretty unremarkable. Nowhere near as noteworthy as Roller, and even he’s a useless, pathetic excuse of a green spark.”

Though he didn’t look up from the game he was playing, Mindsweep made a short noise of acknowledgment. Whenever Dreadnought reached down to stroke his helm, the yellow and silver mech made a pleased hum, grinning widely. His digits continued to quickly flit across the handheld’s controls, never even fazed by Dreadnought’s touch.

“Is he, now?”

Flatline’s voice made Dreadnought perk up a little, and he looked over his shoulder lazily at the medic. They were walking into the room and finishing cleaning off the last bits of stray Energon from their hands, arms, and-well, the entirety of their upper body. Making a grimace at the sight, Dreadnought muttered something about ‘being unsanitary’ before turning his attention back to what he had been reading. And while he noticed the medic walking up behind him, he didn’t flinch, even when they leaned forward to peer over his shoulder.

“Hmm… He looks like he would make an excellent patient,” Flatline commented as he quickly looked over the few pictures of Nitrogear that Dreadnought had managed to find.

“Now, now,” Dreadnought interjected, holding up a hand. “Roller seems to be quite fond of him, so it would quite rude to separate the two.”

“...I thought you despised Roller?” Flatline asked, quirking a helm ridge and looking over at Dreadnought.

“I do. He’s a miserable waste of metal, space, and spark,” Dreadnought answered icily. He then shrugged, his cold demeanor just as quickly evaporating. “However, I’m not completely soulless. I see no reason to subject him or his little companion to your methods of medicine. Especially after they were so kind to as to step in on Mindsweep’s behalf.”

“I could have handled those jerks,” Mindsweep mumbled, still too fixated on the game he was playing to look up.

“I know you could have,” Dreadnought answered, stroking the smaller mech’s helm again. “However, I’m fairly certain that neither Roller nor Nitrogear knew that. They were simply trying to be good citizens and help someone they thought was in danger.”

Mumbling something unintelligible in response, but still leaning into the petting that Dreadnought was favoring him with, Mindsweep continued to play the game. He hadn’t gotten this far in quite some time, and was rather excited at the prospect of being able to reach a new level.

“Hmph. I still stand by my statement that Nitrogear would make an excellent patient,” Flatline replied curtly.

“Heard and noted,” Dreadnought replied.

There was silence for a while, with the only noises the droning machinery in the main control room, along with the beeps, blips, and other various noises from Mindsweep’s game. Finally, after a few minutes, Flatline made a noise and subspaced the rag he had been using to clean his last ‘patient’s’ Energon off of him.

“You do know that that one you hired, I believe his designation is Cutthroat, should be very soon, right?” Flatline asked, looking back to Dreadnought from the corner of his optic.

The fact that Dreadnought froze mid-pet of Mindsweep’s helm, coupled with the fact that the mech pursed his lips before making a face that was somewhere between sheepish and frustrated, was all the answer that Flatline needed. Sighing heavily, the medic put his hands on his hips and glared down at his commander, who was looking up at him from their seat and grinning widely, albeit sheepishly.

“You completely forgot,” Flatline stated flatly.

“In my defense, I got a little caught up in today’s...activities.”

“I’m sure Cutthroat will take that as a valid reason to either keep him waiting or not be able to see him at all today.”

“Oh, hush with the dramatics,” Dreadnought huffed back, rising from his chair and clicking off the screens he had been reading from. “We’ll get the interview room cleaned up in mere minutes and be ready for him whenever-”

The ding of what passed as a doorbell for the building cut Dreadnought off, and he made another face before ventilating a long sigh and looking over at Flatline. To their credit, the medic didn’t say anything, but the fact that they were giving Dreadnought a knowing and obviously irritated look, along with crossing their arms and tapping a pede, was answer enough.

“Quick!” Dreadnought ordered, ushering both Mindsweep and Flatline out of the room. “I’ll stall him for a bit while you two get the interview room cleaned!”

Even though he protested that he wasn’t anywhere near a save point and wouldn’t be for another level, Mindsweep still darted off to help clean up the interview room. Flatline had a few more choicier things to say about his commander, but Dreadnought ignored them. The medic was simply a sourpuss whenever it came to cleaning anything but his operating room and medical supplies.

Brushing himself off and making sure that he looked presentable, Dreadnought hurried to the entrance of the building. As irritated as he might have been, he couldn’t fault Cutthroat. They were the one being punctual, not Dreadnought and his crew. Hopefully, however, this would be the only snag during their little interview.

Opening the door, Dreadnought started to greet Cutthroat, and then stopped when he saw nobody. He quickly snapped his gaze downwards to see a fiery red and silver, rather pointy, mech grinning up at him, fangs gleaming. The blades of their alt mode twitched on their back, and the smaller mech had their fists on their hips, looking rather pleased and proud of where they were at.

“Evenin’!” Cutthroat cried cheerily. “I trust ‘m at the right place, yeah?”

Blinking quickly, still processing the fact that the mech only came up to about his waist, Dreadnought made a short noise, but then quickly regained his composure. He shook his helm and straightened his posture, then glanced over his shoulder before turning his attention back to the red mech.

“You’re Cutthroat, I assume?”

“You assume correctly!” Grin unwavering, Cutthroat looked over Dreadnought and shrugged. “And ’m guessing I should refrain from trying to shake your hand, huh?”

Unable to help but give the smaller mech a morbid grin, Dreadnought nodded and motioned for them to come inside.

“You guess correctly. Now, then, come along inside. We have an interview to conduct, after all. But first, let me give you a quick tour of the place.”

 

* * *

 

Dust kicking up in plumes behind them, Roller drove alongside Nitrogear, who was having to go slower than normal so as to not outpace the larger mech. While his lightly built motorbike frame may not have allowed him to carry much of anything, save for maybe a single, minibot passenger, Nitrogear’s vehicle mode did provide a considerable amount of speed. In fact, he’d initially done teasing circles around Roller while the larger mech had plowed forward.

“Come on, slowpoke! We’re almost there!” Nitrogear called out, revving his motor. “I could drive faster backwards!”

“Keep it up, scrawny, and I’ll take back my offer of carrying the scrap metal!” Roller replied, stifling a laugh.

“That’s just going to mean multiple trips for us, then!”

“Oh, no no no. You mean multiple trips for _you_ , short stuff.”

Laughing, Nitrogear zipped forward and, once again, did fast circles around Roller, careful not to get in their way. Grinning inwardly, Roller revved his own motor, and while it didn’t provide the speed boost like Nitrogear got, it certainly made much more noise.

“Yeep!” Nitrogear squeaked, jumping forward and immediately getting out of Roller’s way. Upon realizing that he wasn’t in any danger, and that Roller was getting a good laugh at his expense, the smaller mech made a loud huff.

Before he could say anything in response, Roller caught sight of the gleam of old metal in the sunlight, and as they drew closer, he could see more and more metal. It was all piled up haphazardly, various edges jutting out at rather sharp angles, and shards of glass, old energy capsules, and various other debris littered the area. And it only seemed to grow in radius the closer they got.

“I’m guessing this is it, huh?”

“Yep. This is it, big guy,” Nitrogear replied, slowing to a stop as they reached the edge of the first pile of scrap. He transformed and looked around, rubbing the back of his helm and humming in thought. “...and there’s a lot of the stuff. A _lot_.”

“You’re telling me,” Roller muttered, transforming and rolling his shoulders. He looked around, frowning in thought, before looking down at Nitrogear. “You ever gone through here before?”

“A couple of times,” Nitrogear replied. He then looked down and twiddled his digits nervously. “But...it gets kind of...well, kind of scary when you’re alone out here.”

“Hmph.” Roller glanced around, then grinned down at Nitrogear and rubbed their helm playfully. “Good thing I’m around then, huh?”

Laughing and adjusting his goggles, Nitrogear lunged forward and dramatically clung to Roller’s leg.

“My hero!” the scrawny mech proclaimed, fanning himself with his free hand.

“Ah, can the dramatics,” Roller laughed, shaking his leg a little to get free.

“Aw, grumpy hero is grumpy,” Nitrogear commented, letting go. He then looked back to the scrap pile. “Well, what do you think? Is there anything worthwhile out there?”

“Definitely,” Roller replied, stepping forward. The glass and some of the smaller bits of metal crunched as they were crushed under his pedes, and he looked over a nearby pile of scrap. “I’d say a couple of trips and we’ll be doing pretty well.”

“Yeah?” Nitrogear asked excitedly, slowly picking his way through the debris. His small pedes didn’t off the same amount of protection that Roller’s did, and he had to be careful or he’d end up with shards of scrap stabbed through his pedes. “That’s good-ow-that’s good, then. We-ow, stupid scrap-can probably get a lot more than I normally could, too.”

Hearing Nitrogear’s short complaints of pain, Roller turned and watched as they hopped around and tried to shuffle through some of the scrap. He smiled and sighed, walking over to the smaller mech.

“Alright, alright, stop moving. You’re going to get hurt if you keep that up,” he said. After a moment, he held out his arm, motioning for Nitrogear to grab on. “Come on, up you go.”

Looking up at Roller, grinning when he realized what the larger mech was offering, Nitrogear clung to the orange mech’s arm. Once he had been lifted up away from the scrap, the yellow-opticed mech scrabbled up and onto Roller’s back. Holding on tightly, Nitrogear looked around, his grin widening.

“So this is what it feels like to be tall!”

“Yeah. So how about you use your newfound height to see if you can find any good scrap?” Roller asked with a smile, shrugging lightly to keep Nitrogear from slipping down before trudging through the piles of metal.

“Roger that,” Nitrogear replied smartly. He leaned upwards, peering out across the sea of scrap. “Maybe we can find something that’ll make us rich!”

“I think you’ve spent too much time up there already,” Roller chuckled. “You’re starting to hallucinate.”

 

* * *

 

After a few hours, the two had amassed a considerable amount of scrap, all of which had been looked over and appraised as best as possible. Roller had done most of the lifting, with Nitrogear being the one to nimbly pick his way up the larger piles in order to reach a particular piece. They had almost decided to call it a day when Roller spied a particularly shiny bit of scrap which looked to be worth considerably more than half of what they’d found.

“Hey, Nitro, think you could get that piece up there?” Roller asked, shrugging so as to direct Nitrogear’s attention.

Looking up, the scrawny mech narrowed his optics before spying the piece of metal that Roller was referring to. He quickly scanned the pile of scrap that it was sitting atop, before nodding slowly in response. The pile itself was steep on the sides, but appeared to have a relatively flat top, which would make getting the piece of metal all the easier.

“Yeah, pretty sure I can. Doesn’t look too bad,” Nitrogear replied, carefully climbing down from Roller’s back.

Carefully picking his way through the metal, the yellow-opticed mech made his way up. He managed to avoid most of the sharper pieces, keeping his gaze on the particular piece of scrap. Even though his footing wasn’t the best, Nitrogear still managed, and with a few more big steps forward, he was at the top. Grabbing the piece of scrap, he began to pull, grunting with the effort, but found that the metal was wedged in farther than he’d thought.

“Stupid-thing’s-stuck!” he huffed, still tugging with all his might.

“Careful!” Roller called. “Don’t hurt yourself trying to get it free. It’s not worth it.”

While Nitrogear would have liked to argue about how much the scrap piece was worth, he decided to keep such commentary to himself. Instead, he gritted his dentae and began heaving with the effort of trying to get the scrap piece free. Finally, after multiple attempts, and some cheering on from Roller, the piece of scrap metal slid free.

Unfortunately, it also slid free a considerable amount of the scrap around it, and Nitrogear soon found his precarious footing slipping from underneath him. He held onto the scrap he had in his hand, and quickly flailed his arms as he tried to regain his balance. At the same time, Nitrogear struggled to try and get back down the collapsing pile without falling face first right into the shards.

“Rrraaarrroller!” Nitrogear cried, his footing slipping as he tripped. In a last ditch effort to keep from having his face ripped to shreds, Nitrogear squeezed his optics shut and lunged forward.

Having already been darting back and forth the moment he saw Nitrogear begin to fall, Roller immediately moved forward. Realizing that Nitrogear was going to fall before he could get there, Roller gritted his dentae and slid the rest of the way on his knees. He could feel the edges of metal cut into the joints, but he ignored the pain and damage for now. His main concern was the yellow-opticed mech that was tumbling forward without any control…

...and who fell right into his awaiting arms.

Collapsing against Roller with a rough grunt, still clutching the piece of scrap metal, Nitrogear grabbed the larger mech’s arm with his free hand. It took him a few moments to realize what had happened, and, after a brief hesitation, Nitrogear opened his optics slowly. He looked around, then up at Roller, who returned the gaze with a nervous, but relieved, look of his own.

“Uh...oops?” Nitrogear said shakily.

“Don’t do that again,” Roller chuckled. He started to stand, but stopped when jolts of pain shot through his knees. Wincing, the orange mech collapsed back onto his aft, taking a surprised and concerned Nitrogear with him.

“What’s wrong? What happen-oh,” Nitrogear stopped when he saw the shards of glass and metal sticking out from Roller’s knee joints, and, with a sympathetic wince of his own, clambered down carefully. “Damn… You know, we could have just carried the metal. You didn’t need to get it stuck in yourself.”

“Very funny,” Roller muttered, hissing in pain. He began to gingerly pick the shards from his knee joints. “Mind helping me out?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Nitrogear replied quickly.

The scrawny mech’s slender digits were much more adept at plucking up the glass and metal pieces, and even though their removal hurt, Roller knew it had to be necessary. And, truth be told, he didn’t regret what he’d done. It was far better that he suffer a bit of pain and minor injuries to his knees than to have Nitrogear’s face mutilated.

The part of face mutilation was already covered, Roller thought grimly as he reached up and brushed his digit tips across the scarring on his face. Scars that were never going to heal. Scars that, if they remained this bad, Roller might have to consider getting a mask to-

“Roller? You okay?”

Looking up at his companion, Roller saw the smaller mech giving him a concerned look. They were still gently pulling the shards out of his knee joints, but Nitrogear seemed more worried about the fact that Roller had drifted off into his thoughts once again. So, forcing a weak grin, Roller shook his helm and leaned back, resting on his hands.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just...got a little lost in thought, there,” the large mech chuckled.

“Anything you want to share?”

“Nothing really, uh, uplifting,” Roller replied sheepishly. “Probably just better if I kept it to myself.”

“You sure?” Nitrogear asked, quirking a helm ridge. “I...don’t mind to listen, you know.”

Studying the smaller mech for a moment, Roller laughed softly and nodded, reaching over and stroking Nitrogear’s helm gently.

“Yeah, I know. And I appreciate that. Don’t worry, if I need to talk about something, I’ll let you know.”

“Alright, big guy, if you say so.” Having plucked the last shard out from Roller’s knee joints, Nitrogear stood up and dusted himself off. “Think you can stand up?”

“Think so.”

With a groan, Roller stood back up, bits of debris falling from his massive frame. He brushed himself off and flexed his knee joints tentatively, testing to see if they would work properly. Fortunately, the pain was minimal and both joints moved freely. Ventilating a sigh of relief, Roller looked back to Nitrogear and nodded.

“We’re good. Come on, let’s get out of here before anything else tries to fall on us.”

 

* * *

 

“So very glad that you chose to join us, Cutthroat,” Dreadnought proclaimed, giving the mech a light pat on the back before quickly withdrawing his hand. “I’m sure that you’ll find the place to be quite accommodating, and should you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Righto, then. No problem,” Cutthroat replied, looking around quickly with a wide grin. He noticed that both Flatline and Mindsweep were regarding him with rather odd looks, but he tried to pay them little heed. “Seems like the place is pretty cozy, too.”

“It’s not bad,” Mindsweep commented. He then shuffled away from Flatline and a little closer to Dreadnought before continuing. “Just...don’t go into Flatline’s medbay without knocking first.”

“Trust me, you’ll only forget once,” Dreadnought added, his voice dropping to a conspiratory tone.

“Ah, good to know, then,” Cutthroat replied, albeit a little nervously. He looked over at Flatline, who appeared to have nothing to say to the contrary. “I’ll stay away from the place, then.”

“I like him already,” Flatline commented dryly before walking off.

“Don’t mind him,” Dreadnought assured. “He’s not exactly renowned for his bedside manner.”

“And he’s your medic?” Cutthroat asked incredulously.

“One of the best there is.”

Though he had something further to say on the matter, Cutthroat stayed quiet. He didn’t want to risk upsetting his new commander so soon, nor did he want to have any of his new comrades irritated with him, either. It hadn’t taken long to figure out that Flatline wasn’t the least bit sociable, and that Mindsweep was the favored one of the two, and, as far as Cutthroat was concerned, there was no need to test it. And it didn’t take a genius to notice that, as friendly as he may have appeared, Dreadnought wasn’t one to be trifled with. Not in the least.

“Right, so...what are we doing first?” Cutthroat asked, eager to change the subject.

“Well, admittedly, you missed a bit of fun by just a couple days,” Dreadnought explained. The tall mech looked over his pointed digits airily before shrugging. “However, I’m starting to get a little curious about our dear friend Roller.”

“Roller?”

“Mmm, yes.” Dreadnought shook his helm in a mix of disgust and disdain. “Roller. A green spark with no Ability. Terrible waste, if you ask me. However, with that in mind, we’re going to see if we can’t...test a little theory of mine.”

Glancing over at Mindsweep, who appeared to be lost in their own thoughts, Cutthroat frowned in puzzlement and looked back at Dreadnought.

“Theory?”

“Indeed. That an Ability can be...unlocked, if you will, should the situation make it necessary.”

Though he started to say something, Cutthroat stopped himself, closing his mouth. He appeared to continue to mull over the thought, though, holding up an index digit. Both Dreadnought and Mindsweep watched him, giving the smaller mech expectant looks, until, finally, Cutthroat seemed to find his voice.

“Do I want to know what you mean by ‘necessary’?” he asked, looking up at Dreadnought.

The fanged grin that Dreadnought flashed Cutthroat sent chills through the red mech’s entire frame, but before Cutthroat could give it any more thought, the grin disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Dreadnought turned his back to the two, leading them to where he had been seated. He picked up a datapad, and, after bringing up what he had been previously reading, handed it over to Cutthroat.

“What do you see?” the blue and silver mech asked, tilting his helm to the side inquisitively.

Frowning in confusion, Cutthroat looked over the information and few image captures, swiping through them as he tried to see whatever hidden details Dreadnought was expecting him to pick up on. Wherever they were, though, they were very well hidden. The information was about as bland as it could get, with the most interesting fact being how the mech had picked up a bad circuit speeder addiction. And the image captures were no better. If anything, they may have served as some sort of awareness advertisement trying to show the damages done by circuit speeder abuse, but even that was a stretch.

“I, uh...don’t see much of anything, boss,” Cutthroat said nervously, looking up at Dreadnought. “Just some washed out circuit speeder addict who’s pretty much a homeless bum.”

“Precisely,” Dreadnought replied, only furthering Cutthroat’s confusion. “That mech is nothing. Replaceable and unremarkable. And yet, he’s keeping the company of someone of far greater note.”

Reaching over, Dreadnought swiped through a few panels on the datapad quickly, before bringing up Roller’s profile. Cutthroat looked down at the new batch of information, immediately seeing details that were far more interesting that what he had been previously reading. Many, many more details, actually.

“That walking scrap heap has _this_ guy as company?”

“Hrmn, yes. That ‘guy’ is the one we need to...give a bit of a push towards figuring out what his Ability is,” Dreadnought replied, tapping his chin in thought.

“Okay, daft question time,” Cutthroat stated, handing the datapad back to Dreadnought. “Why, exactly, do we want to figure out what this Roller guy’s Ability is?”

“Why not?” Dreadnought asked with a grin and a shrug.

Cutthroat stared at the taller mech for a long moment, obviously perplexed by the seeming simplicity of the whole process.

“Oh, my dear Cutthroat,” Dreadnought chuckled, patting the red mech on the shoulder. “You’ll find that some things are exactly as they seem. I find it more interesting that way. You never know how others will try and complicate things that are quite elementary.”

 

* * *

 

Setting down the last armful of scrap metal, Nitrogear ventilated a long sigh and rubbed his lower back as he bent backwards a little. His spinal strut ached from exertion, even though Nitrogear thought he hadn’t really done that much heavy-lifting. _That_ particular accolade would most definitely have to go to Roller, who had not only hauled the scrap metal, but carried in the majority.

“That’s it,” Nitrogear stated, looking over at Roller, who was already sifting through the large pile.

“Yeah. And it’s a pretty good haul, too,” the large mech commented.

With a short groan, Roller sat down on the floor, making himself a bit more comfortable. He started to resume looking through the pile of scrap, but paused. After a moment of hesitation, he held out his hand to Nitrogear. For a brief moment, the smaller mech appeared puzzled by the action, but then a smile of realization spread across his features and he walked over to Roller.

Taking the orange mech’s hand, Nitrogear let himself be guided so that he was snugly seated in Roller’s lap. Leaning against the larger mech, Nitrogear relaxed for a moment before picking up a few pieces of metal. He hummed in thought, still grinning contentedly with where he currently was, as he looked over the metal pieces.

“Think all of these are worth something?” Nitrogear asked, looking up at Roller.

“Yeah, pretty sure they are. We’ll probably have to spread out the amounts that we take to sell, just to be sure that we don’t get cheated out of what they’re worth.”

“Yeah...good point.”

As the two sorted the metal pieces into various piles that they would take to sell over the next few weeks, Roller found his thoughts wandering back to what he had read in _Towards Peace_. He thought it was hardly fair that he and Nitrogear were reduced to picking through refuse just to have a chance at a decent life, while there were others living in far greater decadence. What made him feel worse, though, was the thought that Nitrogear could be deemed ‘useless’ and never even have a chance. True, the scrawny mech may have had their use in the past, but judging by how circumstances had treated Nitrogear, and the toll that it had exacted on their health, Roller doubted that they could do the job they’d once had.

Frowning, finding himself deeply discouraged by the thought, Roller set aside the piece of metal he had been looking over. He wrapped his arms around Nitrogear and held the smaller mech close, eliciting a small, surprised noise from Nitrogear.

“Hey, big guy,” the yellow-opticed mech murmured, setting aside the scrap metal he had been sorting. He lightly set his hands on Roller’s, leaning back a bit further. “You okay?”

“Hrmmm...yeah. Just thinking, is all.”

“Thinking? About what?”

Sighing quietly, Roller rested his chin atop Nitrogear’s helm, continuing to hold them close.

“Do you have any thoughts on where you’d want to go once we get out of here?”

Pausing, Nitrogear frowned in thought. He rubbed Roller’s hands slowly, curling up a little in the large mech’s embrace. In truth, he hadn’t, but now that Roller was presenting the question, Nitrogear thought that he should probably change that. If they had the freedom to go pretty much wherever they wanted, do almost anything, then...shouldn’t Nitrogear give such an opportunity some thought?

“I…” Nitrogear trailed off, closing his optics as he continued to rub Roller’s hands and arms. “Well, I’ve always wanted to see one of those planets they say has a lot of foliage and such.”

“Oh yeah?” Roller asked, sounding a bit surprised.

“Yeah.” Nitrogear chuckled and shrugged. “Guess I’d just like a change of scenery. At least, for a bit, anyways.”

“Heh, I can understand that,” Roller chuckled. The large mech ventilated a long sigh, briefly focusing solely on the feel of Nitrogear’s digits and hands stroking across his own hands and arms. “Anything else?”

“Hmm...not really. But I’m sure I could think of a few more places if you gave me the chance.”

Grinning knowingly at the mischievous tone in Nitrogear’s voice, Roller shook his helm and hugged the smaller mech a bit tighter.

“I’ll take your word for it, Nitro.”


	16. Metal Shard Theft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Roller and Nitrogear continue to work out their travel plans, Flatline pays Syringe an unexpected visit.

“Well, the good news is that the damage is light and superficial,” Syringe commented as he continued to extract the slivers of scrap and glass from Roller’s knee joint. He narrowed his optics in concentration, mindful to keep his hand steady. “Just have to make sure we get all of these bits and pieces out, or they could cause problems later on.”

“How much of a problem could a few pieces of scrap cause?” Roller asked, quirking a helm ridge. He was still partially in awe at how Nitrogear had managed to convince him to return to the surly medic. “I could barely notice them.”

“After they managed to get wedged into a few cables and caused your knees to lock up, you’d notice them,” Syringe replied curtly.

“See? I told you it was a good idea to come see him,” Nitrogear interjected with a wide grin.

“Yeah, yeah,” Roller chuckled with a roll of his optics.

Turning his gaze back down to Syringe, the massive mech watched as they worked, and while he wouldn’t say it out loud, Roller was impressed at how steady Syringe kept their hands. Nitrogear had even been able to clamber up onto the medical berth and sit, cross-legged, beside Roller, and it hadn’t bothered Syringe in the slightest. Granted, the medic had given the two a curious look when he noticed how close Nitrogear had gotten to the orange mech, but Roller ignored it for the most part.

“Almost done,” Syringe stated flatly.

Before he could say anything, Roller was cut off by a small, but sharp jab of pain that shot through his knee joint when Syringe had to dig the tweezers they were using in a little deeper. The medic was humming to himself quietly as he worked, and Roller gritted his back dentae to keep himself quiet. He could feel the tweezers moving around inside his knee joint, but it was more disconcerting than it was painful.

“There.”

With that short announcement, Syringe plucked the last shard of glass that had been deeply embedded in Roller’s left knee joint. He held it up in a sort of wordless triumph, displaying it and the Energon-stained tweezers, before dropping it into a small waste disposal bin. He rose and walked to a sink to start cleaning both his hands and his tools, but as he did so, Syringe spoke up again.

“So tell me, why were you both out at that massive scrap pile? Not exactly a prime vacation spot.”

“We, uh, we were looking for stuff to sell,” Nitrogear replied, leaning against Roller.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, hoping to eventually get enough saved up so that we can do some traveling,” Roller added with a light shrug at the end.

“And where are you two gallivanting off to?” Syringe asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“Not sure, yet. Guess we’ll figure that part out when we get there,” Roller answered, grinning and rubbing Nitrogear’s back.

“How adorable.”

Syringe’s sarcastic remark was met with an exasperated glare from Roller and a knowing smile from Nitrogear, both of which the medic appeared to ignore. Once he had finished cleaning up, they turned and leaned against the sink edge, loosely crossing their arms.

“Sounds like you two have quite the adventure planned out.”

“Yeah. Plus it gets us away from...certain people,” Roller grumbled.

“Certain people?” Syringe repeated, raising a helm ridge.

“...Dreadnought,” Nitrogear mumbled nervously, hugging himself before composing himself. “Kind of had a run-in with him and…”

“And you’re both still alive? That’s a miracle,” Syringe commented, showing a rare moment of genuine surprise. “I’ve had to work on a few that were unfortunate enough to cross paths with him. It was...bad. Very bad.”

“I think we sort of got on his good side, at least for a while,” Roller explained. “We helped out that other guy that was following him around. Ah, what was his name…? Oh, yeah, Mindsweep.”

The mute surprise remained on both Syringe’s features and in their voice, and they even went so far as to make a short scoff.

“That’s probably the _only_ reason you two are still alive,” the medic muttered. “Good thing you didn’t do the opposite and harm Mindsweep. If you had, well...neither of you would be sitting here talking to me.”

“Please don’t remind me,” Nitrogear whimpered, scooting over so that he could hide a little behind Roller.

Giving the medic a somewhat frustrated look for scaring Nitrogear, a look that was ignored, Roller flexed his knee joints slowly. Dull twinges of pain throbbed from them, but it was nothing like before, and the orange mech was certain that the pain would be gone in a few hours. Behind him, Nitrogear shifted a little, but didn’t say anything. They seemed to be too worried about whatever thoughts of Dreadnought were plaguing their mind.

“Yeah, well… Hence why we want to get out of here,” Roller continued. “If Dreadnought that’s bad, then getting away for a while and getting off his radar is just a bonus of traveling.”

Though Syringe murmured something under his breath, something about being the only reason to travel, it was too low and quiet for Roller to make out. Instead, the massive mech slid off the medical berth, tested his weight on his pedes, and then looked over to Nitrogear. The smaller mech was giving him an expectant look, curious to see if Syringe’s work was completely done. With an affirmative nod, Roller leaned over and helped Nitrogear off the medical berth as well.

“In any case,” Syringe said, speaking up, “I hope that your travels are as enjoyable and...safe as you both are hoping. Seems like they would be quite the adventure, in any case.”

The medic turned to the two, quirking a helm ridge and smirking as he crossed his arms.

“Well, unless either of you need a checkup, I think we’re done here.” With a humorless scoff, the medic motioned to the small tray of bloodied metal shards, all of them still coated in Roller’s Energon. “Unless you were wanting to take these to sell.”

“Very funny,” Roller grumbled.

“Ah, no, heh. Don’t think we’ll get much for those,” Nitrogear chuckled nervously. He then looked up at Roller, giving the mech’s hand a gentle tug. “Come on, big guy. It’s getting dark out.”

Watching the two leave, Syringe then turned his attention back to cleaning the last of his medical tools. That was one of the few issues about working on joints. There were so many cables and hoses that a mess was practically inevitable. And given how large Roller was, it was only understandable that there was to be a bit of excessive-

The floor creaking stopped Syringe mid-thought, and he frowned.

“Did you forget something?”

There was no answer, but the sound of approaching footfalls and then a hand reached over and casually grabbed the tray of bloodied metal shards.

Alarmed by the brazen actions and lack of response, Syringe whirled around, ready to verbally lash out at whomever had simply traipsed in. Possibly more if he absolutely had to, as was evidenced by the laser scalpel he held tightly in his one hand.

The visage that greeted him, however, made Syringe freeze and his insides go cold.

Flatline.

A cold scowl that glared down at him through glinting glasses set on emotionless features, one that Syringe had heard of, but had, until now, been fortunate enough to never see in person. The mech twitched his gaze almost mechanically to the tray of bloodied shards, then looked back to Syringe, as though wordlessly questioning whether or not the medic was going to stop him. The look was enough to spark a bit of resentment, however foolish, in Syringe.

“Just _what_ do you think you’re doing in my hospital?” Syringe managed, irritated to hear his voice quaver in the face of this intruder.

“I’m simply acquiring some necessary items,” the medic replied curtly, sliding the tray a bit closer to themselves. “There is no need to be upset.”

“Upset would be if you had stopped at walking in unannounced and uninvited,” Syringe snapped back, reaching over and suddenly grabbing the tray. “Coming in here and trying to steal from me has made me far more than just ‘upset’.”

Even though he was allowed to finish his sentence, Syringe didn’t miss that Flatline’s scowl deepened when he grabbed the tray and stopped the other medic from taking it. That was, also, as far as Syringe was able to get.

Flatline’s free hand suddenly shot up and grabbed the side of Syringe’s neck, their thumb digit sliding passed cables and straight to a set of circuits that fed power to the point that Syringe’s helm and spinal support met. There was a twinge of paralyzing pain, but Flatline didn’t put any more pressure on the point. Right now, he was just giving Syringe a warning…

“Perhaps I did not make myself clear, Syringe,” Flatline stated, disdain emphasizing the last word. “I am here to take some necessary items. There is no questioning this, and your cooperation would be beneficial for the both of us.”

“So you’re expecting me to sit aside as you rob me?” Syringe spat, optics narrowed.

“If you want to sit, so be it,” Flatline stated with a shrug.

Before Syringe could respond, Flatline suddenly twitched their hand violently. Pressure suddenly increased against the circuit feed, and Syringe felt his pedes give out from underneath him against his will. With a grunt, the medic grabbed weakly at Flatline, who seemed completely unfazed by the weak pawing. Even as he fell to his knees, Syringe was painfully aware that he was fully conscious. Flatline wasn’t planning on killing him, at least, not yet. No, the damn bastard was just paralyzing him.

With a short grunt of effort, Flatline held up Syringe long enough to take the tray of blood and shards and then subspace it. Turning their attention back to Syringe, Flatline studied the medic with narrowed optics. For a moment, Syringe wondered if Flatline was going to outright murder him. Before his thoughts could get any grimmer, though, Flatline suddenly slammed their forehelm against Syringe’s, and with a painful jolt, the medic’s world went black.

 

* * *

 

Sitting down on the berth with a heavy sigh, Roller rested his back against the wall behind him, slowly flexing his knee joints as he did so. In front of him, Nitrogear was going through what was practically a routine by this point. They turned on the television, fiddled with the controls for a few moments to try and clear up as much static as they could, and, once satisfied, backing away to make sure that the signal stayed strong.

When it did, Nitrogear gave a satisfied nod and turned, walking over to where Roller was seated. He looked up at the larger mech inquisitively, lightly resting his hands on the orange mech’s leg. For a moment, Roller seemed confused by the gesture, but a smile quickly replaced the confusion. Reaching down, the massive mech effortlessly picked up Nitrogear and set them on his lap.

Grinning widely, Nitrogear wiggled around as he got comfortable, relaxing against Roller’s larger frame. Grateful for when the orange mech let him rest in the crook of their arm, Nitrogear lazily turned his attention to the television. He was only half paying attention to the newscast when another sound, one much softer and lower, caught his attention.

Initially, the scrawny mech paid the low, pulsing thrum no heed. But when it continued, and seemed to fall in pace with the pulse of his own spark, Nitrogear perked up. The longer he listened to it, the stronger the pulse seemed to get. With each beat, it seemed to make Nitrogear’s own spark pulse in response. In fact, it almost felt like it was...directing his own spark pulse.

Frowning lightly, Nitrogear listened for a few more minutes before looking up at Roller. They were far more engrossed in the newscast than Nitrogear, that or they were lost in their own thoughts. So, cautiously and slowly, Nitrogear reached up and tugged lightly on Roller’s thick collar armor. The action immediately drew the orange mech’s attention, and he quickly looked down at Nitrogear.

“Uh, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, Nitro. What is it?”

“How...um, how strong is your spark?” Nitrogear ventured slowly.

Roller’s gaze immediately darkened, and the smaller mech began to regret his question. Nitrogear knew that the subject about Roller’s spark was a sensitive one, but he had hoped that after this much time, that he might have been able to ask about it. But, given that he appeared he was wrong, the thin mech began trying to figure out a way to verbally back out of the situation.

“It-it’s nothing, never mind,” he finally stammered, waving a hand dismissively. “I-I shouldn-shouldn’t have asked about it. I was just being nosy and-”

“It’s alright,” Roller chuckled, even though the smile didn’t quite reach his optics. He fell silent again and breathed a heavy sigh, his smile fading. After a moment, though, Roller appeared to force his smile back when he turned his attention back to Nitrogear. With a shrug, he answered. “I’m not really sure, to be honest.”

“Not...sure?” Nitrogear slowly repeated, still a little cautious about speaking on the subject.

“Yeah. By now I figure that I should, at the very least, be aware of my Ability. Maybe I wouldn’t be able to control it, but I’d at least know that it was there,” Roller explained, his gaze distant but his arms remaining wrapped loosely around Nitrogear. “But...I don’t. I’m useless as a green spark. No Ability to speak of. Nothing special about me other than I was born strong and can take more punishment than most, but even that’s not really remarkable. In fact, I’ve made more mistakes than accomplishments, if I’m going to be completely honest.”

Frowning, Nitrogear settled a bit further into Roller’s embrace. He didn’t like it when Roller spoke of themselves this way, but he didn’t know what to say in order to get them to stop. Nitrogear didn’t know the first thing about green sparks or Abilities, save for the extraordinary stories that got passed around in crowded bars. Even then, the stories made those with green sparks sound rather frightening. Like they were a sort of god amongst mortals.

But Roller was different. Sure, there was no denying that they were incredibly strong and enduring, but they weren’t...cruel or uncaring. In fact, they were the exact opposite. Considerably soft spoken and reserved, they’d been there to defend Nitrogear when nobody else would. In fact, if Nitrogear was going to be grimly honest with himself, the scrawny mech realized that he would have been dead by this point if it hadn’t been for Roller.

“I...don’t think that’s the case,” Nitrogear finally murmured, slowly beginning to stroke the orange mech’s forearm. “You’ve done a lot for me.”

Though he didn’t see it, Nitrogear could hear and feel the larger mech chuckle softly. He hoped that it was a fairly sincere one, and that maybe Roller would stop being so hard on themselves.

“Maybe,” Roller agreed. He then shrugged, careful not to jostle Nitrogear. “But, to answer your question, I guess there’s always the possibility that my spark pulses are stronger than most. Probably a good possibility of that. Don’t know what that means, if anything.”

“Yeah…”

“Wait,” Roller interjected, noticeably sitting up straighter. He looked down at Nitrogear, studying the smaller mech. “I haven’t hurt you with it, have I? It’s not causing you pain or-”

“No, no, no!” Nitrogear replied quickly, shaking his helm. “It doesn’t hurt at all! I just...notice it, sometimes, when we’re both, uh, kind of relaxed and not really doing much of anything. But it doesn’t hurt at all.”

“Oh, okay. That’s good, then.”

Relaxing against the wall behind him, Roller hugged Nitrogear a little tighter for a moment, as though wordlessly assuring himself that what the smaller mech said was true. He wasn’t sure that he could hurt someone with his spark, but, knowing his luck, if he could, it’d be Nitrogear that was the victim. And, as far as the massive mech was concerned, that was unacceptable. Though, maybe, just maybe, what the smaller mech was sensing was the first hints of an Ability?

Sighing heavily and dismissing the ludicrous thoughts, Roller let his thoughts wander. Surprisingly, he found himself mentally reciting some of the more poignant parts of _Towards Peace_. The words brought him a sense of comfort and calm that he hadn’t found in any other manuscripts, and even though it may have seemed a bit silly, Roller saw no reason to not indulge in the soothing words. He continued to mull them over, vaguely aware whenever Nitrogear would slightly shift around in his arms to get a bit more comfortable. Roller had to admit that he was surprised at how many of the words he had retained, but it made it thinking over them all the better.

As he continued to ponder over what he remembered, Roller began to see a great deal of reason in what the words said. Reason that he hadn’t read or heard from...well, from anyone, actually. Orion Pax came the closest to providing such reason, but even then, the red and blue mech fell considerably short of what Megatron’s words described. If anything, Megatron seemed to have a far greater understanding for what it meant to be downtrodden and oppressed. He had explanations and rationale, whereas, with Orion, Roller had encountered more fighting and resistance. He was sure that all of those had their proper places, but what Megatron offered seemed to be a far more peaceable route.

Smirking and making a short scoff, Roller realized that that was probably why the title was _Towards Peace_.

“What’s so funny?”

Nitrogear’s words pulled Roller from his thoughts, and the orange mech looked down at the other. They were giving him an inquisitive look, yellow optics wide and blinking.

“Ah, nothing. Was just thinking about something that I’d read.”

“Oh, yeah? Care to share?”

“Er, not sure you’d really be able to follow unless you’d read the book,” Roller replied with a quick frown. He then shrugged and motioned over to the small, tilted bookshelf against the wall. “It’s over there, though, if you want to read it.”

“Really?” Nitrogear asked, sounding surprised. He glanced over the tiny collection of books. “Which one is it?”

“ _Towards Peace_.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Nitrogear asked with a laugh as he slumped back into Roller’s arms. He then waved a hand quickly. “I...I don’t know, big guy. That kind of writing isn’t really something that I can follow. It’s almost like I’m trying to participate in a debate where I don’t get to have any say in the matter. A one-sided argument, kind of.”

“You really think so?” Roller replied, surprised to feel a small twinge of disappointment at Nitrogear’s dismissal. “I don’t think it’s that bad, you know, and I’ve read books like that before. Megatron...doesn’t get preachy or anything. Not like most writers of that genre do. And he makes a lot of good points, even in the first couple of chapters. He-”

“Are you practicing your testimonial for the book on me?” Nitrogear interrupted with a grin.

“No,” Roller sighed, smiling despite the interjection. “All I’m saying is that I think you should give it a try. At least try reading the first three chapters, okay? If you don’t like it after that, then you don’t have to read any further and you can tell me that my taste in literature is scrap.”

Nitrogear laughed and lightly kicked his pedes, giving Roller’s forearm a playful pat. He glanced over at the bookshelf, but wasn’t entirely sure why he felt an odd sense of foreboding from the book. It wasn’t like it was some forbidden text from a haunted building. It was just a silly bunch of writings from someone who had made observations about the imbalance of power in the Cybertronian social hierarchy. That was all...right?

Or maybe it was the fact that Roller seemed to be so fixated on the book, and that they’d gotten so enraptured so quickly. Maybe that was why Nitrogear was starting to feel the first hints of regret at getting the book for Roller.

Mentally kicking himself, Nitrogear snapped out of his thoughts, briefly shaking his helm as he did so. It was silly to be angry at a book for being well-written. It was silly and, to be quite frank, stupid. Nothing would come of the anger, save for Nitrogear looking like a fool. And he wasn’t about to get rid of the book, ironically enough because of how much Roller liked it. So the best thing to do was just forget about the whole thing, let Roller have his enjoyment from the book, and move on.

 

* * *

 

“You’ve done some stupid things while with me, but this has got to be one that goes to the top of the list.”

Ventilating a long, hissed sigh, Flatline finally looked up at Dreadnought, who was glowering down at him with crossed arms. Funnily enough, it was the fact that the silver and blue mech had their arms crossed that gave Flatline some degree of comfort. If Dreadnought had been truly angry with him, their arms would have been unfolded and hands at the ready.

“Like I was trying to say, there is a reason for what I did,” Flatline began, again, speaking slowly. He was mindful not to sound condescending, though. Dreadnought may not be truly furious with him, and the medic wanted to keep it that way. “I-”

“There had damn well better be. At no time did I ever authorize you to go around pummeling unsuspecting medics before robbing them.”

“I didn’t rob him,” Flatline retorted, feeling rather insulted that Dreadnought would think him to do such lowly actions. “He was going to throw out the scrap, anyways. In the process, he would have destroyed valuable bits of Energon that we can use. Furthermore, I only used force when he tried to strike me first.”

“Roller’s Energon, I take it.”

“Yes, of course. That’s the only reason I even bothered in the first place.”

For a long moment, Dreadnought studied Flatline in silence, his green optics narrowed. Finally, though, he seemed to relax, moving back a shuffled step so that he could turn his attention to the Energon-stained shards. They had been carefully laid out and contained in a series of glass containers. Flatline had been in the middle of the process of collecting as much of the Energon off the shards as he could before Dreadnought had stormed through the doors to the medical bay.

Ventilating long and slow, Dreadnought continued to look down at the shards with an expressionless stare while Flatline kept glancing up at the taller mech. It was one of the rare times that the bespectacled medic actually appeared nervous. While Dreadnought may have calmed down, the fact that they had remained silent was still very unnerving. As far as Flatline was concerned, there was nothing stopping Dreadnought from lashing out once again.

Finally, almost mercifully, Dreadnought appeared to relax. He ventilated a short sigh and looked back to Flatline, giving them an odd look that the medic hoped was one of approval. There were times that it was nearly impossible to figure out what the mech was thinking, especially when they were in a mood such as this one. It was only out of a sense of pride and a mental reminder that he was the only medic that would work for Dreadnought that Flatline didn’t flinch.

“At least your little fiasco wasn’t for nothing,” Dreadnought stated dryly.

Suddenly jabbing a clawed index digit right at Flatline’s face, the silver and blue mech drew close. Pride immediately forgotten, Flatline leaned back, trying to put at least a little bit of distance between his face and the danger that Dreadnought’s possible touch brought. Meanwhile, the commander had leaned forward, his green optics locking with Flatline’s.

“But if you ever do something like this again, you’re going to be needing your own medical services,” Dreadnought hissed. “Am I understood?”

“Of course, sir,” Flatline replied, making sure to keep his tone even. He knew better than to try and argue the point any further.

And then, jarringly and instantly, Dreadnought’s mood changed. A grin, though still tinged with malice, crossed his features and he gave Flatline a pat on the shoulder. While the medic thought the action was incredibly condescending, he didn’t dare voice such a thought. He could very well end up losing his shoulder if he did that. ...or worse.

“Very good!” Dreadnought stated with a nod. He then looked back to the shards of Energon-stained metal. “Now, tell me… What have you found out about our talentless friend?”

“Aside from the basics, not very much...yet,” Flatline answered, slowly letting his gaze go back to his medical tools. “I was just in the middle of analyzing his Energon to see if I could find anything that might predispose him to...well, anything, really. Thus far, I haven’t found anything. Then again, there may not be anything to find if Roller is really lacking any potential for an Ability.”

“Ick.” Dreadnought’s features scrunched up and he stuck out his glossa at the mention of a green-spark being completely without an Ability. “Now that would be a true disappointment.”

“Rest assured, sir. I will be sure to analyze everything as thoroughly as possible,” Flatline promised. He then sighed almost longingly as his gaze flicked over to the metal shards. “It might be a little difficult, however, given that there isn’t very much to work with.”

“I have every faith in your abilities,” Dreadnought replied primly. He then glanced over his shoulder before turning his attention back to the medic. “I do, however, need to go. I’ve been giving Cutthroat a little bit of practice to ensure that he’s actually cut out for his new position.”

“And how is that going?” Flatline inquired as he began to arrange the metal shards in a new order.

“Aside from appearing to have been given an unfitting name, I think he’ll do quite nicely.”


	17. A New Vision For Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the damage done to both Roller's body and mind begins to seep deeper, Cutthroat is introduced to the medic Flatline...and their sadistic 'hobby'.

Slowly rousing out of recharge, Nitrogear made a short noise before stretching and glancing around, mildly confused as to why he wasn’t lying on the recharge slab. Whatever he was resting on was actually a bit softer and warmer, and definitely far cozier than the non-working recharge slab. Reluctant to move much more, Nitrogear craned his gaze upwards, and it was then that he realized that he had actually been sleeping atop Roller. The much larger mech was reclining on the recharge slab, intently reading a book.

He was so enraptured in the book, in fact, that he didn’t seem to notice Nitrogear waking up. So, with a faint grin, Nitrogear began to trace the tip of his index digit along the edges of Roller’s armor. When Roller didn’t seem to notice, Nitrogear began to hum as he continued to trace along the armor edges. That seemed to do the trick, as a smirk tugged at one corner of Roller’s mouth and he lifted the book so that he could look down at Nitrogear.

“Welcome back to the land of the waking,” Roller chuckled, setting the book aside for the moment. “Was wondering when you’d wake up.”

“Hey, I was comfortable,” Nitrogear protested, wiggling around slightly. “Can’t blame me for wanting to stay comfortable, can you?”

“Hmm… I guess not.” Roller then tilted his helm to the side, giving Nitrogear a curious look. “You were saying things in your sleep, though.”

“I was?” Nitrogear asked, appearing surprised. He then winced and glanced away. “Huh… I haven’t done that in a long while. I’m going to guess it wasn’t anything good, was it?”

“Er, yeah. It wasn’t,” Roller replied with a grimace, rubbing the back of his neck and looking down at Nitrogear. “Kind of scared me there for a bit. Was worried I might have to call in help or something.”

“You could just wake me up, you know,” Nitrogear replied, sitting up slowly and straddling Roller while placing his hands on their midsection to stay steady. “It’s not like I’ve ever woke up trying to throw a punch or anything. ...at least, not that I know of.”

“To be honest, I wouldn’t be worried even if you had woke up swinging,” Roller chuckled humorlessly. He looked up at Nitrogear and sighed heavily. “But I didn’t want to scare you any more than you already seemed to be. It was...yeah, it was pretty unsettling.”

Slouching a little, Nitrogear seemed to curl in on himself, reflexively clutching at the much larger mech’s armor. He had hoped that with Roller being around for as long as they had, the occasional, but severe, nightmares would abate. The fact that they hadn’t come up for so long had been rather promising, but now, it appeared, that had been a rather silly thing to wish for.

“Hey, come on,” Roller said, bucking his hips ever so slightly to try and get Nitrogear to perk up. “Nobody got hurt, and now that I know it’s safe to wake you up, then that’s what I’ll do. No big deal, right?”

When Nitrogear was silent, Roller reached up and stroked the smaller mech’s helm gently. He was careful not to bump the still bent handlebar, but let his digits trace down along the side of Nitrogear’s face before hooking his index digit under their chin. Lifting their yellow-opticed gaze up to his own, Roller tilted his helm to the side and quirked a helm ridge in wordless inquisition.

“Y-yeah… I guess so,” Nitrogear replied bashfully, rubbing his arm briefly. He then frowned and tilted his helm to the side, as though just noticing something. Leaning forward, the scrawny mech drew closer to Roller, making the larger mech pause and give them a wide-opticed, inquisitive look.

“Something wrong?”

“Your optic,” Nitrogear murmured, cautiously lifting a hand up to Roller’s face but not actually touching it.

“My optic?” Roller repeated, noticing that his companion was reaching for the damaged, scarred side of his face. He instinctively reached up and ran his digit tips across the deep furrows that marred his face. “What’s wrong with my optic?”

“N-nothing!” Nitrogear quickly said, shaking his helm and sitting back up. He glanced away, but just as quickly returned his attention back to Roller. “It’s just that...your optic. It’s turning red.”

“What?” Roller asked, sitting up quickly.

With a yelp, Nitrogear tumbled back, and he would have fallen completely off the berth had Roller not deftly caught him. Freezing, the scrawny mech looked up at the much larger mech with wide optics, concern written across his features. He shook his helm again, shrugging slightly.

“It’s not bad or anything. I mean, if it’s not impairing your vision, then I don’t see the problem or anything. Just kind of...surprising.”

Wordlessly, Roller carefully set Nitrogear down before getting off the berth himself. It wasn’t like there was an abundance of mirrors in their makeshift home, but after a bit of searching, Roller was able to find a datapad with enough of a gleam to it that he could see his reflection somewhat clearly. He had to resist the urge to squint, as he wanted to see just how red his optic actually was. It took a few minutes, but, eventually, Roller was able to see his reflection clearly enough.

And it made his spark do a sickening twist in its chamber.

The scars seemed...worse, somehow. While Roller didn’t doubt the kindness of Nitrogear’s intent or Syringe’s skill, he couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps a more skilled medic would have been able to reduce the appearance of the ghastly marks. But, even more unsettling, Nitrogear’s comment was true. A dark red color had seeped across Roller’s normally cerulean optic and was staining it a rather stark shade of crimson. The large mech quickly blinked a couple of times, forcing his optic to focus and refocus, trying to see if there was any sort of adverse effect.

Fortunately, it seemed that Roller’s vision was unhindered by the color change. That did very little to help his mood about the whole matter, though. Sighing heavily and rubbing his face, grimly noticing that the scars didn’t even slightly sting, Roller set aside the datapad. He held his hand on the side of his face, as though trying to hide his discolored optic.

“Roller?” Nitrogear asked softly, reaching up and lightly touching the orange mech’s forearm. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” Roller muttered miserably, shaking his helm. “It’s the opposite, really.”

“Oh… But that’s a good thing, right?”

“Sure. If you count looking like a scarred up, Decepticon wannabe a good thing,” Roller grumbled.

Frowning, Nitrogear looked down, still loosely holding onto the larger mech’s forearm. He made a quiet noise of thought, but wasn’t sure what else to say. Personally, he was just grateful that Roller’s vision hadn’t been permanently damaged by the damage or scarring. It seemed that he was the only one that shared that sentiment, however.

After a few moments, he gave Roller’s forearm a light tug, looking back up at his companion. Though they hesitated for a brief moment, Roller eventually turned his attention to Nitrogear. He tilted his helm to the side inquisitively, reluctantly letting his hand slide away from the damaged side of his face. Mustering up a small smile, Nitrogear tried to sound as confident as he could.

“It really doesn’t look that bad,” he lied, giving Roller’s forearm a gentle squeeze. “I wouldn’t have even noticed except for the fact that, uh, well...I’m around you all the time. And besides, it doesn’t hurt and isn’t affecting your vision, yeah?”

Frowning, Roller looked away and lightly ran his digit tips over the scarring, but didn’t let his hand linger this time. As frustrating as it may have been, Nitrogear did have a point. It would be far worse if Roller’s vision hadn’t repaired itself or, worse yet, he’d completely lost his vision in that optic. With all the damage that had been done, and how little care the wounds had been afforded, Roller guessed that he was very lucky that he wasn’t seeing with just one optic now.

“...yeah, you’re right,” Roller sighed heavily with a nod, gaze downcast. “I can still see just fine. Kind of surprising, actually. Guess I just got a little hung up on appearances.”

Shrugging quickly, Nitrogear grinned up hopefully at the orange mech, giving their forearm a light tug. He motioned to the berth with a jerk of his helm, before scampering over and picking up _Towards Peace_. Waving the book slowly, Nitrogear hopped up onto the berth and bounced a little as he beckoned for Roller to come over.

“Come on, big guy. Don’t let something that we can’t change, at the moment, ruin your mood,” Nitrogear reasoned. He then held up the book a little higher. “Here. You can even read your favorite sleeping-I mean, reading material.”

“Hey, now,” Roller chuckled, walking over and taking the book from the yellow-opticed mech. He looked over it thoughtfully, pausing for a moment before continuing to speak. “This is turning out to be a really good book.”

“You haven’t finished it?” Nitrogear asked incredulously. “With as often as I’ve caught you reading that thing, I figured you would have been done by-”

“Yeah, I have. Uh, twice, actually.”

“Twice!?”

“There’s a lot to digest, though!” Roller countered. He then laughed at the face that his companion made, before ushering them to scoot over so that he could sit back down on the berth. “I’m still finding details and nuances that I had missed the first two times.”

“Jeez. What’d the author do? Put in little puzzles and quizzes that you have to fill out at the end of each chapter?” Nitrogear inquired as he crawled around Roller so that he could peek over their shoulder at the page the orange mech had turned to.

“Not quite,” came the chuckled reply. “But it’s still a lot to take in and think about. I’ve had a couple of times that I needed to just set the book aside and think over what the book was proposing.”

“Sounds like the author is just trying to buy some time in order to write up a sequel.”

“I’m never going to get you to read this, am I?”

“Sure. If I need to fall asleep quickly, I know where to turn.”

Sighing with a tired, defeated smile, Roller moved so that he was able to wrap his arm around Nitrogear’s waist. He tugged the smaller mech close, and they obediently crawled into the orange mech’s lap. Already working on getting comfortable, Nitrogear sighed contentedly and curled up. While he didn’t necessarily need the sleep, there was something to be said for being able to relax for however long Roller decided to read. Relaxing wasn’t something that Nitrogear had been able to do for quite some time.

“Maybe we can get you an audio recording of this,” the large mech teased, shifting his weight slightly as he leaned back against the wall behind him.

Feigning snoring, Nitrogear pretended to be asleep. Or rather, he did until Roller playfully tickled at the sensitive cables of his neck. The scrawny mech laughed and squirmed around, trying to shield himself. Undeterred, Roller continued to tickle at his companion until they waved their hands and begged for mercy. Satisfied, Roller looked down at Nitrogear and quirked a helm ridge.

“Eh… Maybe if I can get it as an audio recording,” Nitrogear mumbled, still grinning. “But only a maybe.”

 

* * *

 

For what seemed like the fifth time that hour, the glass beakers and metal equipment that was laying around Flatline’s operating room rattled around wildly. The medic looked up from his work, obviously exasperated, and simply sat still, laser scalpel still in one hand while his other hand firmly pressed down on the armor pieces he had been cutting free. Even from behind his glasses, it was obvious that Flatline was quickly nearing the end of his patience. He ventilated a long, frustrated sigh, and then began to count backwards from one hundred.

He reached eighty-seven by the time the vibrations quit.

Looking up, his face completely deadpan save for an intermittent, faint twitch that tugged at the corner of his right optic, Flatline looked back down at his work almost forlornly before pushing himself away from the operating table. He slowly stood, carefully working the sore ache from his joints and spinal strut, and exited the operating room. Walking down the hallway and towards the source of the vibrations and, now that he was no longer protected by the noise-cancelling walls of the operating room, a deafening cacophony of bullet and laser fire.

Working to keep what little patience he had left, Flatline approached the door, waited for a moment, then rapt his knuckles against the metal door loudly. Given how loud and disturbing the sounds had been, he was rather surprised to hear someone say something muffled and then the sound of footfalls. Folding his hands behind his back and standing up straight, Flatline made sure that his expression was neutral. It hadn’t been that long ago since he’d inadvertently pricked Dreadnought’s temper, and he didn’t want to risk doing so again.

The door slid open, revealing a scuffed and somewhat rattled, but grinning, Dreadnought. From behind the tall, silver and blue mech, Cutthroat peeked around, smoking guns still in hand. Given the size of the barrels and the fact that they looked to have been going through fully automatic gunfire, Flatline didn’t have to question why the vibrations and noise had been so obnoxiously pronounced. Instead, he looked up at his commander with a pained, polite smile, glasses glinting in the light.

“It sounds like you two are having a...spirited training session.”

“We are,” Dreadnought replied cheerfully. He glanced over Flatline’s expression, then quirked a helm ridge. “However, given the fact that you are here instead of working on your latest project, _and_ you’re giving me that smile that means you want to run towards the nearest living thing and kill it...I’m going to guess you’re not here to join in.”

“You would guess correctly...sir. I-”

“Ooh… The ‘sir’ treatment,” Dreadnought interrupted, raising both helm ridges. He then chuckled and reached over to pat Flatline on the helm with a slightly smoke-stained hand. “No need to be so formal, Flatline. I’m not angry with you any more. You can be honest with me.”

Even though he internally tensed at the feeling of Dreadnought’s hand on his helm, Flatline didn’t move. Instead, he humored his commander, then made a short noise to ready his vocalizer before looking up at the silver and blue mech with a very frustrated and disgusted look. It was enough to make Dreadnought recoil a little; even if their amused expression never faded.

“I am _trying_ to work. Emphasis on the work ‘trying’.” Flatline rocked his helm from side to side, making the cables creak and pop as the tension was released. “I understand that Cutthroat needs to be...integrated into how things work here, but could you _please_ choose a different time for target practice?”

For a moment, Dreadnought just stared at Flatline, unmoving and unwavering, and the medic worried he may have accidentally raised his commander’s ire. But then a grin, a rather morbid one at that, spread across Dreadnought’s features and he stood up straight as he swung the door open wide. He held open his arms and chuckled, crackles of deadly, sea-green energy running along his arms and hands. Flatline didn’t move, having come to expect the theatrics, but Cutthroat obviously shuffled away.

“But, of course.” Dreadnought stated. He then put his hands on his hips and tilted his helm to the side as he looked over Flatline. “In fact, I daresay this would be an excellent opportunity to introduce Cutthroat to what you do as a, ahem...hobby. Don’t you think, Flatline?”

“I...wasn’t trying to imply that,” the medic replied tersely. He glanced down to Cutthroat, who was looking between Dreadnought and Flatline apprehensively. “Besides, it looks like our newest addition might not deal too well with the current state that I have my...patient in.”

“It can’t be that bad, can it?” Cutthroat asked, quirking a helm ridge.

Stopping, Flatline fixed the younger mech with an obviously unamused stare. Dreadnought, on the other hand, appeared to have immediately recognized Cutthroat’s verbal faux pas, and was looking down at the red mech a knowing smirk. Despite not being able to see his commander’s expression, Cutthroat seemed to be more curious than ever as to what was so bad that both Dreadnought and Flatline would fall silent.

“Well, is it?” he finally demanded.

“I certainly do not think so,” Flatline replied with a predatory grin. “Let’s test your theory, shall we?”

With that, the medic stepped back and made a sweeping motion for Cutthroat to follow him. The red mech started to oblige, but paused to give Dreadnought an inquiring look. When his commander smiled and made a ‘shoo’ing motion, Cutthroat quickly darted down the hallway to follow Flatline. He could hear Dreadnought chuckling and trailing behind them, but the red mech was far more interested in seeing what was supposedly so scary about this medic’s work.

Sure, injuries could be grievous and disgusting to both look at and deal with, but it was all in the line of work for a medic. Wasn’t it? Maybe Flatline dealt with something delicate like prosthetics or...or…

As the door slid open to the medbay, any and all coherent thought drained from Cutthroat as his spark did a funny twist in its chamber. What greeted him hardly looked like a proper medbay. Instead, there were pieces of mechs in various states of dismemberment and...being rebuilt. But they were being rebuilt all wrong. Extra limbs, armor that didn’t belong, even adjustments to the protoform beneath the armor.

No, this wasn’t a medbay. It was a damn torture room.

“What do you think, Cutthroat?” Dreadnought asked, slinking up from behind the smaller mech and setting his hands on their shoulders. He was a little amused to feel a shiver run through Cutthroat’s frame, but didn’t comment on it.

“I...are...are they...still alive?” Cutthroat wheezed, trying to keep his voice from wavering.

“I would certainly hope so,” Flatline chuckled dryly.

Without hesitation, the medic walked over and picked up a laser scalpel from where he had been fusing two pieces of armor together. Looking over it quickly, Flatline then turned his attention to the one mech that was still, to a degree, in one piece. While the armor had been removed and cables had been spliced together, the medic had ensured that a steady feed of Energon via IV, along with welds and temporary seals, kept the unfortunate soul alive.

Humming and twirling the scalpel around his digits slowly, Flatline then gave the mech a light prod with the blade. He was careful not to hit anything vital, but the pain was still there, and the mech made an audible whimper as they tried to pull away, despite their restraints. Their sound of misery was followed by Cutthroat making an odd, choking noise that they immediately stifled. The red mech was looking between the victim and Flatline, and though instinct told him to run, it felt like his pedes were bolted to the floor.

“I..see.”

“I’m actually quite happy with this one, Dreadnought,” Flatline stated, setting aside the scalpel. “He’s proven surprisingly resilient and though he made quite the fuss at first, after Mindsweep was able to have some time with him, he’s turned into the model patient.”

“Why...Mindsweep?” Cutthroat cautiously inquired, even though as he asked the question he found himself fearing the answer.

“You remember Mindsweep’s specialty, don’t you?” Dreadnought asked.

“Yes, it’s…” Cutthroat trailed off, and he wouldn’t have replied had it not been for the small squeeze to his shoulders that Dreadnought gave. “...mnemosurgery.”

“Right you are.”

“I certainly can’t have the patients remembering who they are if I want to continue to make adjustments to them,” Flatline explained. “Furthermore, it assists in keeping them far more docile and less likely to try and escape if they think there’s no reason for them to do so in the first place.”

“Why...are you doing this to them?” Cutthroat finally managed, his voice surprisingly calm.

“Consider it a way of making sure our enemies don’t come back to haunt us,” Dreadnought disclosed. “There’s been the occasional problem that just couldn’t ever seem to understand that harassing myself or any of my crew was a bad idea. And, sure, I can easily kill them and be done with it, but there’s something to be said for making them and one or more of their accomplices _permanent_ additions to each other.”

“So...you make examples of them?”

“Some, not all,” Flatline interjected, his tone almost chiding. “Not all of them have frames that are capable of undergoing the...adjustments. Armor buckles and tears, sometimes the welds, despite my best efforts, just won’t hold at all, and there has been the rare occasion that I got a little too extravagant with said adjustments and the protoform couldn’t support the weight.”

“But what do you do with them afterwards? Do you just have them all locked up somewhere to kill later?”

“You’re partially right,” Dreadnought stated approvingly. “While we do have to keep them locked up to prevent them from scrabbling off, we figured out a more creative use for them.”

“...dare I ask what that is?”

“I don’t know. Do you want to know?”

There was a moment of hesitation on Cutthroat’s part, and he fell quiet. He glanced at Flatline, who was looking at him expectantly, and though Dreadnought stood behind him, the red mech knew that they were awaiting an answer. So, as much as it would probably give him nightmares for the rest of his days, Cutthroat forced him to nod.

“It takes a little bit more work, but we fashion them into a sort of semi-intelligent cannon fodder,” Dreadnought said, never removing his hands from Cutthroat’s shoulders. “After that, Mindsweep takes control of as many as he can safely manage and...well… We’ve found that it can be very frightening and demoralizing to our enemies for them to see what could become charging right at them. That and if you drive anybody mad with enough pain, they’re quite the nightmare to deal with during a fight.”

“So...you have an army,” Cutthroat finally stated. “Your own, personal army, yeah?”

“That seems a bit melodramatic, but...I suppose one could call it that,” Dreadnought answered airily. “They’re quite useful, needless to say.”

“I can imagine.”

For a long moment, Flatline studied Cutthroat, somewhat impressed that the younger mech hadn’t either fainted, vomited, or both. Mindsweep still refused to come into the medbay if any of Flatline’s patients were being worked on, and even Dreadnought had his reservations and would always knock first. And though they had initially seemed ready to bolt off, Cutthroat appeared to be accepting of Flatline’s ‘hobby’ far quicker than most. Perhaps the medic had been mistaken about their resolve…

“In any case, given the delicate nature of my work, I would appreciate it if you please knock before entering,” Flatline explained. He adjusted his glasses before continuing. “There are times that I am a bit...caught up in things and it can upset my dear patient to see a new face so soon after their adjustments.”

“Uh, yeah, no problem,” Cutthroat agreed with a quick, enthusiastic nod. “I’ll be sure to knock."


End file.
